Corvine
by Zephyr5
Summary: Companion to ‘Serpentine’: Dumbledore’s scheming backfired in a big way Harry Potter is Missing, Presumed Dead. Without a saviour, without backup, and without a clue, the wizarding world is unaware of the repercussions but for how long?
1. White is Just Another Shade of Grey

Category: Book

Sub Category: Harry Potter

Series Title: Corvine

Title: White is Just Another Shade of Grey

Genres: General - cause I can't think what else it would go under, really

Language: English

Author: Zephyr5

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Companion to 'Serpentine': Dumbledore's scheming has backfired in a big way - Harry Potter is Missing, Presumed Dead. Without a saviour, without a backup, and without a clue, the wizarding world is completely unaware of the repercussions of Dumbledore's meddling - but for how long?

Warnings: mention of male/male relationship later, dark!Harry, confused!Snape, Slytherin-like!Dumbledore, eventual character death. Oh, and everyone's probably horribly OOC…

Spoiler Warnings: none - this is AU through and through (obviously, since he gets abandoned before the books really get started)

Disclaimers: I do not own the canon Harry Potter characters who make an appearance, I do, however, own the idea of Nye, shadow vipers, and the plot.

AN: Companion fic to my challenge answer 'Serpentine' - cause I _really_ didn't like the 'optional epilogue' (that I've now removed). I was stunned by the number of reviews I got for 'Serpentine', and, inspired in a large part by Sylvanus Snape's wondering of what the 'light' side thought of it all, this (hopefully) is a much better and more complete conclusion/companion piece to 'Serpentine'

Everyone who reviewed 'Serpentine' - your replies and acknowledgements all await at the end :) (this includes those who reviewed/had their reviews responded to in chpt 4 of 'Serpentine')

**White is Just Another Shade of Grey**

October 31st, 1981. The wizarding world reeled in shock as Voldemort, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was defeated by a one-year-old Harry Potter. That he had lost his parents in the attack was lamented, but easily glossed over, after all, what were the final two casualties of Voldemort's reign of terror when compared to all those who had gone before? If anything Lily and James were considered lucky, for they had simply been killed, not tortured until death was a mercy.

But some lamented. Some of those even truly felt sorrow. Others merely lamented the sacrifice of pawns in a far larger game...

-

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..._

Dumbledore knew Voldemort hadn't been defeated. Not really, not completely. Oh, certainly the dark wizard had been _discorporated_, but that would only set him back a few years, maybe a decade depending on how many of his followers remained true. No, all that had been achieved was a little space, a little time in which to breathe - and plan.

_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies..._

The prophecy's coming had left him with precious little time in which to prepare. Fortunately fate had been kind - not its usual fickle self - and he had barely needed to nudge Lily and James into marrying sooner than they had planned. All it had taken was a carefully crafted anti-protection spell interwoven with the emergency portkey that all Order members carried, and then a comment to the Auror medi-witch that Lily seemed to be looking a little peaky.

Whether either James or Lily had realised what had been done - and by whom - there was nothing in their faces or actions that betrayed any shock or mistrust. Maybe they had assumed he knew best, and that they would be told when it was time. Maybe they had assumed that they had simply cast the protection spell incorrectly. He would never know, and, quite frankly, as it didn't have any import on current or future events, he didn't care.

The boy had been born.

_And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not..._

The boy had been born, and Voldemort had managed to botch his casting of the killing curse so spectacularly that it had rebounded and discorporated him. Dumbledore suppressed his snort of amusement. Grindelwald had been at least a challenging opponent, if somewhat predictable. The former Dark Lord had never lost control, although his intelligence and sheer power were less than Voldemort's.

With Grindelwald out of the way, and Voldemort a negligable threat at best - although, he had to admit, the boy did have his moments - Albus Dumbledore had patiently pulled strings and offered sweets until all his plans were set. Short term plans - such as Voldemort's blanket wishes to 'purify wizard-kind' - were all very well, but change only really happened with long term plans.

Dumbledore's plans couldn't be called anything other than long term. In fact, his plans weren't due to come to fruition for another...16 years. Unless, of course, Voldemort did something abysmally stupid in the mean time. He had _liked_ Grindelwald's predictability.

_And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives..._

Still, there was always the possibility of something going wrong, whether it be some outside agency or some other factor not included - or underestimated. Not that he believed any such thing could put a serious wrinkle into his plans. No, minor glitches maybe - for instance, a mild compelling charm might be needed to ensure that the boy's muggle relatives weren't quite as...welcoming...as they might be.

Hogwarts had to seem like heaven - which meant the boy's home had to seem like hell. Only then would the boy truly be open and ready to be moulded into his weapon. With Harry Potter to defeat Voldemort - tragically dying in the process, or as a result of the process - Dumbledore would be able to settle the inevitable chaos into order once more. An order more resembling _his_ idea of order, with more of _his_ ideals than currently existed.

And after that, well, there was always a new Dark Lord waiting in the wings to take over, and prophecies were such fickle things...

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._

-

AN: whew… -wipes away sweat- that _really_ didn't want to be written -falls over- I just hope the rest goes better... should be longer at any rate :)

And now, to respond to all my reviewers from 'Serpentine'…please don't kill me if this AN ends up larger than the fic - it's why this is at the end not the beginning :)

Chapter 1 reviews:

_Ceris Malfoy_: Glad you like it - hope you enjoy the rest (and the sequel!)

_Sylvanus Snape_: I'm glad you liked the beginning - took me long enough to find one I liked! Alas, whilst the idea is indeed original, much of it is not mine, so credit there to PxW for the original challenge :)

_DuShuZhi_: Thanks for your review - hope you like the rest of it :)

_HoshiHikari_: Yes, only the beginning - or at least chapter one was -grins- This, alas, is the end -wipes away tear-

_Slash despiser_: LOL - maybe I am 'sick freaks' (and yes, I mean the plural), but I like your, um, review(?) simply because it gives me a chance to explain some of my reasoning behind the story -smirks- Let's dissect your review section by section shall we?

'would be a good story if not for the fact that harry mate is a 65 year old fart…' Actually I think your sentiments may be more along the lines that it would be a good story if not for the fact that you don't like the pairing. Harry should also be capitalised (since it's a name), and have an 's at the end to indicate the 'mate' is 'Harry's'. I'll let the '65 year old fart' comment pass (mainly because I'm tired - be grateful for small mercies).

'why cant you people see that that is even more discutting than incest relationships?' Well…I'll start simply with two words, spelling, and punctuation. But if you mean that the age difference is more _disgusting _than an incest relationship…then it is, if you'll excuse the pun, all relative. We poor muggles, alas, live for (on average) around 80 years, so an age difference of some 50 years is pretty big and pretty rare - not entirely unheard of though. _Wizards_ on the other hand, live for (I believe) around 200 years, which makes an age difference of 50 years fairly insignificant. What makes it seem greater is that Harry is still very much at one end of the scale, when you get to the point where one person is saying 'I'm 150, you're only 100' the ridiculousness of the situation becomes apparent. As for the whole incest thing…I've heard an interesting theory (although I've not investigated deliberately), that incest is only 'applicable' when issue might result - i.e. between male and female. However, I'm not going to speculate further because it has absolutely no bearing on this particular piece of work.

'i he might aswell go back i time and f-ck his father..atleast they are the same age…' Again, I's should be capitalised - and watch your spacing. And what _is_ the point of f-ck - are the reviews on censored-shrugs- Right, well I'm assuming the point of this mangled sentiment is to emphasise how much more disgusting you find an HxV relationship to an incestuous one. Did you even read the summary for the fic? I mean, how many Dark Lords _are_ there?

'people are always going on about how sick a relationship with harrys own mother would be(shezzas future remaped) but i think it normal complared to a relationgshit with an 65 YEAR old MALE…you sick freaks' Oh where to start - right, same place as usual -grins- Spelling, grammar, punctuation! Please - flames without those three are just ineffective and plain funny (thanks on that count, I was laughing all day with this - I think my housemates are scared now). That said, I see we're still on the 'incest over age-gap' rant. Personally I worry that you find _either_ type of relationship normal. And no, I'm not contradicting myself. Normal implies that you find it everyday, that it's 'common' - it's not common in our society, for the reasons I stated earlier, we don't live long enough. That said, where, if such a relationship _wasn't_, at some point, normal, _and_ between _males_, where do you think the term 'catamite' comes from?

Wow, you got nearly a page - greedy person. Next time (if there is a next time), leave your e-mail as a gesture of sincerity, because either you don't have the guts to take a response, or you don't really believe what you're saying.

Chapter 2 reviews:

_Dahlias_: I also am stunned - at the number of reviews I've had -grins- and the one flame -smirks- toasty… Ahem, well Hermione died because Voldemort needed the blood of an enemy (originally he would have used Cedric, except Harry went along with him), but she didn't have the protection that Harry's wand gave him in the book, so she died and, as canon (one assumes), Peter cast the morsmorde (probably using Hermione's wand). As for Harry blushing…well, it struck me that no, normally he wouldn't blush because he wouldn't be embarrassed by it, _however_! (dun dun duuun) He blushes because he has professed disgust for anything 'human' - well masturbating certainly isn't a _snake_ thing, so he's blushing because he's getting pleasure out of something 'human' and keeps expecting Nye to comment on his hypocrisy.

Chapter 3 reviews:

_pimpnnpink420_: glad you liked it, thanks for reviewing.

_Bohemian_-cackles with you, scaring housemates even more- I do indeed like snakes, I have plans to get a tattoo of one (if I can find a nice Slytherin one), but don't tell anyone -realises the internet is not a good place to keep things secret- eh -shrugs- Horror or comedy…hmm…completely your choice :) As for Dumbledore…lets just say that I think the shock contributed to his death - certainly he didn't have much chance to defend himself.

Yes, credit for Nye's sense there goes to Twig's 'A Long Hard Road' - a Final Fantasy VII fic over on noire sensus, lets just say that mako can have a similar effect as that which I imagined for the result of a human/snake liaison. Magical breeds of snake, I believe, would come about naturally as a result of the snakes absorbing magic from their surroundings. I think non-magical snakes would then be the equivalent of human squibs - sometimes the squib side will breed true and, voila, a new species of non-magical snake.

_Dahlias_: Yes, this is now done, it is official, no more shall I be begged, pleaded, cajoled, bribed or threatened into writing -glares at muses- however, if (as was originally intended) you wish to ignore this (imho) crappy ending (I'm nowhere near as happy with this as I am with the rest, and the style feels wrong in places as well), I shall not be offended - in fact I'll sympathise. I personally am going to do just that once this thing is posted.

Um...as you may have gathered, Corvine is a good example of my muses making me eat crow (pun intended) - meh, I _should_ be doing work dammit -glares at muses-

_Bakura_: Thank you - this alas, is all the continuation anyone is getting. I have other things in the works though -grins-

Again, I'll eat the words, since the muses have decided that a companion fic is one of those 'things' in the works -glares at muses-

_HoshiHikari_: Yes, it was meant to end at chapter 3 -hits self for forgetting to add 'fin' to the end of the previous chapter- but this provided a few answers for various things that I'd raised earlier, such as what, exactly, Nye was and why it was so conveniently there.

_indus_: Yes, mushy Voldemort is fun -grins- He's only like that around Hades/Harry though, and mainly because he's just at such a loss for what to do - he knows being his usual Dark Lord self isn't going to work, and so he just goes reeling in completely the opposite direction -smirks- I just love Sev's reaction in the other room though - had me giggling for hours! Harry's transformations, on the other hand, are always going to be few and far between. He's always preferred his snake form, and feels safer and more confident in it - people (who he really doesn't like much) are much less likely to approach him as a snake. About the only times he'll change into Harry are if it's warranted in defence of Voldemort, or if they're having sex -smirks-

_Virginia Riddle-Malfoy_: Yes they do don't they, especially when Harry is quite happily Dark!Harry -smirks- He does look good as a 'sadistic snake animagus' -licks lips- Alas for this is all you get - continuation will have to rely on your own imagination (just think lots of hot Harry/Hades x Voldemort action - plus background Severus x Lucius action)

Keep the above thoughts -smirks-

_kiayea_: Thank you. Here is the companion fic, if you were wondering what everyone else was doing/thinking.

_dancingdragonfire_: Not so much a conclusion as an alternate view to the fic's events (which will include a slightly more obvious ending)

_LittelWolf_: Thank you. You are a wonderful example to everyone who reads and doesn't review - it's not a painful process at all, and if two words is a stretch, well, 'great' would do. It's even one syllable. ;)

_The-13th-To-Fall_: No, no sequel. I'm afraid the blueberry creamcheese pie has been snatched away and will not be returned (Voldemort's not the sharing type ;). I very rarely write proper lemons, especially given policies. Maybe, one day, I will jump archives - but not today.

Still not a sequel per-se, sorry.

_SheWolfe7_: This, I am afraid, is all the more you're getting - I hope it's enough. Thanks for the review.

Grr - damn muses are making me alter all my review responses - enjoy the companion fic.

_Sylvanus Snape_: Well, there's not much light resistance _to_ think, but I hope this view of things from the other side met with your approval, it was, after all, your review that sparked it :) As for Hades learning more about his parents…he doesn't really care/think about them. He's been brought up by a serpent - snakes aren't the most nurturing parents - and lives for the present and the future, not the past. -shrugs- maybe if he came across a dementor and remembered their deaths he might wonder briefly, but as no one's likely to mention it around him in parseltongue (doesn't speak or understand anything else remember), I'd say he's not going to enquire.

A slightly more complete alternate POV - there still won't be much light resistance in the end, but this is a slightly more coherent view of events.

_CrawBrad_: Thank you, I love Hades too -ducks killing curse- but I'd hastily add that he's definitely Voldemort's and pleasedon'tbitemeHades-runs and hides from shadow viper-

Chapter 4 (removed) reviews:

_twilightshadow_: Heh, flames are always entertaining to respond to -grins- Thank you, and you too.

_Ceris Malfoy_: I agree, chapter four is now gone - hope the Corvine fic meets with your approval :)

_Virginia Riddle-Malfoy_: I would probably be more upset with a nasty review that actually had a point, I had a review for another fic pointing out (coherently) that I'd forgotten to put a slash warning in the summary - that quite embarrassed me -hides- I believe I've seen your fic (on one or more of the many archives I visit now and then), I will indeed check it out -grins- Dumbledore really _is_ a manipulative old git.

_DuShuZhi_: Doesn't necessarily make the story much longer, but Corvine should provide another POV for Serpentine.

_Eruvande Snape_-preens- why thank you, I'm glad you liked Serpentine, and I hope (if you read this) that you're similarly enjoying Corvine. :)

Whew - not doing that number of responses again -falls over in exhaustion- Again, I apologise for the fact that this fic is 2/7 fic and 5/7 other stuff - it should be fairly obvious that other chapters will not suffer this issue though :)


	2. A Step Too Far

Category: Book   
Sub Category: Harry Potter 

Series Title: Corvine 

Title: A Step Too Far 

Genres: General - cause I can't think what else it would go under, really   
Language: English   
Author: Zephyr5 

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Companion to 'Serpentine': Dumbledore's scheming has backfired in a big way - Harry Potter is Missing, Presumed Dead. Without a saviour, without a backup, and without a clue, the wizarding world is completely unaware of the repercussions of Dumbledore's meddling - but for how long?

Warnings: mention of male/male relationship later, dark!Harry, confused!Snape, Slytherin-like!Dumbledore, eventual character death. Oh, and everyone's probably horribly OOC…

Spoiler Warnings: none - this is AU through and through (obviously, since he gets abandoned before the books really get started)

Disclaimers: I do not own the canon Harry Potter characters who make an appearance, I do, however, own the idea of Nye, shadow vipers, and the plot.

AN(Updated): For anyone who's wondering, Corvine chapters and Serpentine chapters mix thusly (time wise):   
Corvine chapter 1   
Serpentine chapter 1   
Corvine chapter 2 (starts around the same time as Harry eats his first raw rabbit)   
Corvine chapter 3 (jumps back and forth from when Harry first starts to manifest accidental magic to a couple of weeks after the accidental fire)   
Corvine chapter 4 (from when Harry begins to learn wandless magic to when Nye first mentions the 'dark wizard' aka. Book 1)   
Corvine chapter 5 (Harry's eighth year with Nye aka. Book 2)   
Corvine chapter 6 (Harry's ninth year with Nye aka. Book 3)   
Corvine chapter 7 (Harry's tenth year with Nye to the end of Serpentine chapter 1 aka. Book 4)   
Serpentine chapter 2   
Corvine chapter 8 (from Voldemort's visit to Clipstone to just before the attack on Voldemort)   
Serpentine chapter 3   
Corvine chapter 9 (the attack on Voldemort and a brief epilogue of thereafter)

**A Step Too Far**

It was an eerie coincidence that the alarm sounded just as Professor Snape walked into Headmaster Dumbledore's office. He, of course, simply raised an eyebrow, as if to say 'it wasn't me - care to explain?' Albus Dumbledore, for once, did care to explain. Well, for a given value of 'explain'...

"The Potter wards." Was all he said before Snape felt the compulsion of Imperio dragging him towards the fireplace.

"Arabella Figg's," he heard himself say, watching detachedly as his feet carried him into the green flames.

He arrived at his destination with the almost requisite dusting of soot, and had taken two steps into the room before the compulsion to go to number 4 Privet Drive faded enough to let him cast a swift scourgify. Arabella appeared to be out - the house felt empty, despite the three cats he could see sunning themselves on the window seat.

Still driven by the compulsion to investigate - although now it was more of a persistent itch than a burning need - Snape let himself out of the house, and headed for the Dursley's residence.

A slow anger built as he stalked down the road. The Potter brat was only four years old, and already he was causing trouble - Snape dreaded the moment, thankfully still far in the future - when the boy came to Hogwarts.

He could see it already, the brat, having been spoiled rotten for eleven years, would arrive at Hogwarts expecting the same treatment - and he would get it. Of course he would be a Gryffindor - like his father - with Minerva fawning over him and his adoring groupies. And of course Albus would waive every rule in existence for his precious saviour.

Even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were likely to fall prey to the Boy-Who-Lived syndrome. But not, he thought, somewhat smugly, him and his Slytherins. Oh no - it would be a cold day in Hades before they bent knee to someone whose only claim to fame or power, was an event that had been none of their doing. If anyone should have been praised it was Lily - since it had been her sacrifice that provided the boy's 'miracle'.

The Dark Lord's discorporation - for Snape had the continued existence of his morsmorde mark to attest that Voldemort's essence lived on - was an accidental side-effect.

By this point Snape had reach both a simmering anger and number 4 Privet Drive. Gritting his teeth, and with a firm grip on his wand - Albus hadn't said _why_ the alarm had sounded after all - he knocked sharply on the door.

***

If anyone had asked Severus Snape to predict the reaction of Harry Potter's uncle on opening the door to find a wizard, they might have been surprised at how close his prediction was to reality...

"Who are you and what do you want?" The man who answered the door asked gruffly, before Snape's attire registered and his face flushed a deep and angry red.

"I am here to see Mr Potter. Where is he?" Snape responded icily, ignoring the man's first question.

"P-Potter?" The man stammered, some of the redness draining from his features, and his eyes widening briefly before they narrowed in determination. "Don't know any Potters. No Potter living here anyway - whoever he is." Snape was neither fooled nor amused.

"Really? I suggest you try harder to remember - _where is he_?" His voice was lower, more menacing - the same voice he used whenever he wished to reduce a particularly loathsome student to tears. It had never yet failed him. The redness drained completely from the man's features, leaving him pale and shaking slightly.

"R-ran off..." He squeaked, eyes darting around as though looking for some way to escape. Snape's eyes narrowed - god help the brat if _he_ found him. All this trouble over some damned stunt - designed, no doubt, to gain him yet more attention.

"_Legilimens_." Snape hissed, still glaring at the corpulent man.

***

_Landscape flashing by as he [Dursley] controlled a muggle death-trap known as a car. Glancing to his [Dursley's] left to see a horse-faced woman dozing in her seat, head bouncing slightly with the movement of the vehicle. Glancing in a small mirror to see a chubby child - also asleep - alone on the back seat. Feeling a sense of peace and...relief?_

Surely that wasn't the Potter boy? Snape mused, frowning to himself. And why the sense of relief? Frown deepening, he dug deeper, further back in time.

_Reading a paper in a spacious lounge. Glancing up at a clatter of pots, seeing his [Dursley's] wife washing up the breakfast dishes. Vague annoyance that someone else wasn't there to do them. The briefest flicker of overlaid, much older memory - a skinny boy standing on a stool washing the dishes, overseen by the woman. Glancing across at his [Dursley's] son to see the boy engrossed in the game on his gameboy._

Things were starting to make disturbing - and confusing - sense. Pushing further - knowing, or at least suspecting, what he was looking for, Snape delved further into Vernon Dursley's memories.

_Driving through a forest, the dust kicked up by the car obscuring the view through the rear window. Glancing to his [Dursley's] left and seeing the horse-faced woman again, awake this time, with her already-thin lips compressed into a tight frown of determination. Glancing in the mirror to see_ two children _- the chubby one, his [Dursley's] child, asleep in the rightmost seat, directly behind him [Dursley]. The other child - Potter - skinny and wide-eyed, awake despite the deeply shadowed bags beneath his eyes, peering interestedly out of the window. A growled threat, which had the boy pressed obediently back into his seat, squashed as far away from the other child as he could get without leaving the car. The car coming to a halt. Another growled threat, which had the boy nodding earnestly, and then the order. Obediently the boy unbuckled his restraints and opened the door, slipping out of the narrow gap and closing it behind him. A sense of profound relief, and eagerness to leave. Landscape rushing by again as the car drove off, but never a glance backwards at the boy who had just been abandoned._

***

He had not really been surprised by his 'welcome' at the Dursley's, but Snape was flummoxed by what he found in Vernon Dursley's memories. Far from the coddling he had expected, it seemed that at least one, and probably both adults disliked the boy saviour intensely. No doubt, had they not abandoned the boy, their own child would have grown up and into the same dislike. What made it more confusing was the fact that Albus _couldn't_ have been unaware of the situation. Unless...

Of course - _that_ was the game the old man was playing. Make Hogwarts so much more attractive to the boy than the only other place he could go, and the fool would accept Dumbledore's manipulations at the slightest threat of being sent home for the holidays - or expelled. It wasn't the first time Albus had used the same methods, and nor would it be the first time that said methods backfired...

Snape shuddered and, after pulling the name of the forest from Vernon Dursley's mind, released him from the spell. The other man staggered backwards, slamming the door shut as he went, but Snape didn't care. He was torn between informing Albus of this potentially ruinous turn of events, or going to Clipstone Forest himself. He'd been there before, and knew what to expect - and also how to comport himself in such a way that his searches were, if not actively aided, then unhindered.

Smirking slightly, he decided to use the little leeway the Imperious spell left him with, and report back to Albus. He was, in his defence, but one man, and Clipstone was a large forest when you had no landmarks to narrow your search.

Carefully concealing his amusement - _that_ he would reserve for his other master - Snape apparated back to the boundary of Hogwart's anti-apparition wards.

***

Albus Dumbledore, as Snape had expected, did not take the news of Harry Potter's abandonment well. Not that he was obvious about it - no, it was a subtle displeasure, and all the more dangerous in that Snape couldn't quite figure out where it was aimed.

He knew, before the Headmaster's rationale had kicked in, that part of the anger had been aimed at him for not immediately setting out to find the boy. That had been expected - the bearer of bad news and all that - as had the offer of a lemon drop once he was 'forgiven'.

In a large part he suspected the Headmaster's ire was aimed at the Dursleys - and quite rightfully so. Snape had figured out already that the Boy-Who-Lived hadn't been supposed to grow up in a particularly caring environment - he suspected even abuse would have been permitted, as long as it was neither crippling nor life threatening - but abandonment was a step too far.

The rest though - and he feared if his suspicions were correct - was Albus' anger at himself. Of all the people to misjudge, he had misjudged _muggles_, underestimating their hatred and cunning of all things. Snape feared if this was the case, because _he_ was the one whom Albus would lash out at. After all, if he 'badmouthed' the Headmaster no one would believe him. They would simply see an ex-Death Eater ungrateful at being given a 'second chance', never realising that without an extremely powerful imperious spell there would be no 'ex'.

"I must speak to my contacts at the Ministry." The Headmaster's mutter interrupted his bitter thoughts. Although the mention was vague, Snape knew he was referring to those contacts who had either been members of the Order of the Phoenix, or who had acted as their informants. Albus' secret-society cum vigilante-group had scattered back into the obscurity of their lives four years earlier, with the defeat of the Dark Lord. Never really in the public eye, the Order had found it easy to vanish from the recollection of all but its former members, affiliates and, of course, its leader. It stood to reason that Dumbledore had some means of contacting his followers.

Just, he thought, as a knock on the office door broke him out of his musings, as the Headmaster seemed to have some way of summoning Minerva McGonagall. Either that or the woman had the most incredible sense of timing.

"Ah, Minerva." Albus beamed at her as she stepped into the office. "Severus is looking _a bit faint_." He explained, making the words more than mere suggestion. Snape wavered slightly where he stood, but the murderous glare he was directing at the Headmaster never faltered. "Could you possibly help him down to his private rooms? A good rest and you'll be right as rain, eh Severus?"

"Of course Albus." He grated out, disdaining the offer of support from Minerva as he stalked towards the door. His knees buckled at the next step - his strength deliberately and maliciously sapped - forcing the elder witch to make a quick grab for his shoulders.

Humiliated and infuriated, Snape let her escort him out of the office.

***

Not forty-eight hours after the wards on number 4 Privet Drive alerted Albus Dumbledore that all was not well, a massive search of Clipstone forest was underway.

***

The searchers were hindered by a lack of information. They weren't few in number, but Clipstone was a large area to search when they had only the vaguest of ideas where the boy had been left. Normally it wouldn't have mattered, for they could have used magic to search, but Clipstone was renowned precisely because tracking and monitoring spells did not work there. The searchers were also hindered - although they didn't know it - by the fact that they were not searching for whom they thought they were searching for. Fudge had agreed wholeheartedly that it would do the wizarding world no good to know that Harry Potter had been abandoned by muggles, and so the search was supposed to be for the child of a foreign diplomat. Amazingly the excuse, which didn't stand up against any sort of scrutiny, was accepted without a murmur.

After two days of fruitless searching, Albus reluctantly agreed that the searchers were getting nowhere. It wasn't that the operation seemed to be plagued by silly mishaps - one broken leg after a searcher fell down a rabbit hole, two venomous snakebites, a near-miss with Devil's Snare and one Unspeakable who'd simply disappeared. It was, well - the operation was plagued with silly mishaps. But then, Clipstone forest was like that, and had been for centuries.

Albus had taken advantage of the summer holidays to research Clipstone forest in a little more depth, and he had been surprised by what he had found. Of course, he had already known what most wizarding families knew - and also how the muggle legends of the area tied into the wizarding legends - but for those who looked and read between the lines, there was quite a bit more.

Clipstone forest was situated over one of the most magical areas of England. It had been planted long before the birth of Christ, filled with a wide variety of trees suitable for providing wand wood. The project was a long-term one, set in place by a coven who - depending on which version of events you believed - either had divinatory powers, or were simply entrepreneurs. They had planted and tended the huge grove, encouraging others to do the same, although none lasted so well as Clipstone. But then Clipstone was the only grove to have massive protective wards woven into it. Wards that, purportedly, had gifted the trees with an almost human intelligence.

In reality, Dumbledore believed, it was far more likely that the almost worshipful tending of the grove had simply awakened some sort of Guardian spirit. Certainly as the grove had grown and matured, it had become a haven to magical refugees - of all kinds. It was said - although no one had ever been able to confirm or deny the tales - that every kind of magical being, and some non-magical beings, had their own particular tales of what Clipstone forest represented.

By 1300BC Clipstone forest had reached its full maturity, and had merged with the more mundane Sherwood forest. And it was in that era that muggle legends and wizarding legends coincided.

***

Most muggles were familiar with the name 'Robin Hood' - a noble outlaw and his band of 'merry men', who robbed from the rich to give to the poor, and who hid within Sherwood forest's haunted trees. Most wizards, on the other hand, were familiar with the name 'Rathwyn Hyood' - a Slytherin prankster who had formented discord between the muggle classes, and who had hidden himself, and his followers, within Clipstone's semi-sentient trees. It was clear, comparing these two legends, that Robin Hood and Rathwyn Hyood were one and the same person - the same wizard.

Both Robin and Rathwyn's legends had one glaring similarity - no one who chased them into the forest ever found them. It was as if they vanished, ghosts themselves, or aided by ghosts or other supernatural beings. All the evidence pointed at supporting Dumbledore's belief in the theory that there was an overall Guardian spirit watching over the forest, and aware of everything within its remit. It was that Guardian spirit to whom he hoped to appeal for aid in locating Harry.

Unfortunately no majority of texts agreed on what form Clipstone's Guardian took. It was likely, given its large reptilian population, that it was some form of serpent - indeed, many different types of serpent were cited as having claimed to be the Guardian of the forest. On the other hand, it was also reported to have been many different birds, and other magical species too. Neither was there any definitely agreed way in which the Guardian could be found. It seemed as if it simply appeared where and when - and to whom - it chose. Not the most easily approached of allies.

Still, Dumbledore was highly conscious of the fact that he had no other recourse. If the Guardian of the forest could not - or would not - find Harry Potter, then alternate plans would have to be made. The boy was likely already dead - although he would feel more certain of that if he saw a body - but certainly he wasn't likely to survive much longer without human attention. After all, what did the creatures of Clipstone forest know about raising a human child?

***

AN: *takes gun and shoots ff.net* Well, now I've finally been driven to extreme measures...one entirely re-formatted chapter...[censored to prevent libel claims by ff.net] 

_Reviews from Serpentine Chapter 3_   
kdalemama: high praise indeed - thank you very much. I'll admit, the OOC warning is more a formality than anything, everyone is slightly different because of the AU - I'm glad you think I pulled it off though. :) 

Andromeda Snape-Malfoy: heh, yeah, I think they do make a cute couple when done in a certain way, Voldemort really strikes me as someone who just wouldn't have a clue when dealing with a sulking Harry, and yet I don't think he'd make the mistake of falling back on his Dark Lord persona. I apologise for the shortness of Serpentine, but that was as far as the 'story' went - Corvine is the compromise companion fic and, whilst not covering much further time-wise, looks at events from the other side of the conflict, so we get a bit more detail on how Harry's abandonment affected the canon timeline. 

Vindex: *blushes* thank you - at least, I assume the 'unbelievable' was a good thing ;) Alas, since doesn't have an NC-17 rating anymore, I am unlikely to post anything that pushes to that rating (although the dark lord offer is tempting the muses...)

_Reviews from Corvine Chapter 1_   
Ezzy: this fic is just from the light side's POV, however, it will continue to an (as yet) undefined point in time after Serpentine ended, so there is something of a sequel aspect to it. Quite what POV I'll use for that…not sure yet :)

Bear with me on this, RL sucks and I need sleep, caffeine and the ability to write lecture notes in my sleep...


	3. Ripples of Fate

Category: Book   
Sub Category: Harry Potter 

Series Title: Corvine 

Title: Ripples of Fate 

Genres: General - cause I can't think what else it would go under, really   
Language: English   
Author: Zephyr5 

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Companion to 'Serpentine': Dumbledore's scheming has backfired in a big way - Harry Potter is Missing, Presumed Dead. Without a saviour, without a backup, and without a clue, the wizarding world is completely unaware of the repercussions of Dumbledore's meddling - but for how long?

Warnings: mention of male/male relationship later, dark!Harry, confused!Snape, Slytherin-like!Dumbledore, eventual character death. Oh, and everyone's probably horribly OOC…

Spoiler Warnings: none - this is AU through and through (obviously, since he gets abandoned before the books really get started)

Disclaimers: I do not own the canon Harry Potter characters who make an appearance, I do, however, own the idea of Nye, shadow vipers, and the plot.

AN: This is a slightly strange style, as it jumps back and forwards in time between various sections. The time jumps should, however, be fairly clear. Enjoy!   
Update: Incidental date change (nothing major to the plot), because I should really plan timelines before writing, not after…, and re-formatted

**Ripples of Fate**

1991, the morning of July 24th dawned without any great remark, especially over the stereotypical suburban image of tranquillity that was Privet Drive. No one wondered at this completely normal continuation of a routine that hadn't varied once in seven years. Why should they? Privet Drive was a respectable place, inhabited by respectable people with respectable jobs.

The Dursleys, who lived at number 4, were a prime example of this suburban normality. Vernon Dursley had his nine-to-five office job as director of Grunnings, Petunia, his wife, stayed home and cared for the house and their son, Dudley, who had recently turned eleven and, like his father, would be attending the prestigious Smeltings private school. There was, of course, the incident over a decade ago, when a car accident had taken the lives of Petunia's sister and brother-in-law, and had landed them with the couple's orphaned child. No one wondered, seven years on, where the four-year-old boy had gone. The Dursleys were a respectable family – clearly some other relative or godparent had come forwards and claimed the boy.

***

Professor Snape sits at the head table as the first years file into the great hall. Given a choice he would be anywhere but here – sometimes he even neglects to exclude Azkaban from the alternate locations – but he is trapped in his predicament, held by an unforgivable curse that forces him to serve a master he loathes. He is one of the few people 'privileged' to know the truth, and though he knows his seemingly-benevolent taskmaster would punish him were he to voice the sentiment aloud, he wishes the errant infant saviour well. Harry Potter at least, has escaped from Albus Dumbledore's web of lies and half-truths, and the Potions Master thinks that maybe that means he too yet has a chance. Still, as he sneers at the new generation of pawns that Dumbledore delights in using to torment him, he wonders just how much trouble Potter would have been used to cause him.

He shudders at the thought.

***

1991, a brief hush fell on London as the last midnight chime of Big Ben died away. It was July 31st, a date of no particular consequence - except to those for whom the time had come to celebrate another year of their life passing. Fierce gales and rain battered the West coast in the early hours, but by dawn the wind had died and the clouds had rained themselves out of existence. The sun rose in a clear sky, baking an already parched England, mindlessly cruel with its heat as the people below went about their business. No one suspected that the forest fire in the Midlands – the largest in decades – had been caused by anything other than an unlucky combination of circumstances. Why should they? It was an unusually hot year, but they happened, as did accidental fires caused by campers – that the fire had gone underground, travelling through veins of peat in the soil, was the final unlucky circumstance of where the fire had started.

Unlucky circumstances were the byword of the 31st. There was the fire – which had been burning quite merrily since the 26th – but that was common knowledge in both the muggle and wizarding worlds. The unlucky circumstances of Quirinus Quirrell were far more private and consisted simply of a mistake of timing, and were, in fact, extremely _lucky_ circumstances for Albus Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel. Had Rubeus Hagrid been two hours later, or Quirrell two hours earlier, the 'attempted robbery' wouldn't have been an attempt. But no one suspected it was anything more than an audacious – and doomed – attempt to steal a minor magical item of some sort. Gringotts would obviously never hold something in their vaults that could affect the world – like the Philosopher's Stone.

***

Minerva McGonagall tries to remain focussed as the new first years file into the great hall, walking nervously behind her. Most are gaping around, especially the muggleborn among them, and she can't help trying to imagine how the absent child would have reacted. Like the other muggleborn students no doubt, for Harry Potter was to have been raised by muggles despite his half-blood parentage. She drags her thoughts back to the ceremony with difficulty, realising with surprise that Albus has said his piece – for once without her prompting – that the Sorting Hat has finished its song, and that everyone is waiting for her to proceed. Smoothly she slips back into her well-worn role, explaining the sorting procedure, and then reading out each name in a measured tone, smiling at those students sorted into her own house, waiting patiently for the applause to die down before reading out the next name. She thinks her voice should crack as she skips from 'Perks, Sally-Ann' to 'Thomas, Dean', but as her thoughts go into freefall, her voice continues with the ingrained routine, impassive. She doesn't know how they do it, Albus and Severus, looking, acting, _feeling_ so normal, so at ease, as if they too were blissfully unaware of the repercussions of their shared secret. She almost wishes that she, like Hagrid, had chosen the easy escape of a memory charm, but she knows she, like Severus, is too close to the situation. Hagrid, after all, doesn't have to deal with any situations that necessitate knowing anything more than that which is common knowledge about Harry Potter. But she is close to the situation, and knows too many little details that don't really add up to be comfortable. She suspects so much, but mostly that Albus' insistence that all is not lost is as much a facade as her own seeming normality.

She trembles at the idea.

***

1991, the first day of September – a Sunday – and the day wizarding children all over the United Kingdom had been waiting for. All morning families arrived at Kings Cross station, an exodus the staff were long used to seeing, even if they did sometimes wonder how on earth all those people didn't fill the place to bursting. Trolleys piled high with trunks and suitcases – and the odd birdcage – rolled awkwardly under their owner's directions, pureblood and muggleborn alike discovering that for a trolley to have all four wheels pointed even vaguely in the same direction – never mind the _right_ direction – was a great achievement. No one knew that the Hogwarts express ran one passenger short that day. Why should they? It was not their job to keep track of anything other than themselves and their own luggage, there were official people for that sort of thing.

Official people such as the Professors of Hogwarts, or the Ministry of Magic officials, or even the Aurors. But none of them were on the Hogwarts express, and the refreshments witch and the driver were not there to expound on probabilities and the repercussions of actions many years in the past. They were not there to tell Ronald Weasley that he should be demonstrating a 'charm' to turn his familiar, Scabbers, yellow, or to tell him that he should be explaining about wizarding sweets as a chocolate frog made a desperate – and short lived – bid for freedom out of the open window. No one knew, as they rode on the Hogwarts express across the open countryside, that they also rode a ripple in time. A ripple that will one day crest and break across the country as a wave.

***

Headmaster Dumbledore has had a long time to reconcile himself to the events of seven years ago. He has faced worse setbacks in his plans before, and knows that, if he approaches this correctly, it can all still be resolved as he wishes. Still, he finds himself searching for Lily's green eyes in the faces of all the first years who approach. He, of course, doesn't find them, but he does find the cold grey eyes and white-blond hair that scream 'Malfoy'. It seems only yesterday that Lucius was a student at Hogwarts, walking for the first time through those same doors towards the staff at the head table, towards where the Sorting Hat waited to assign houses. Now enough time has passed that such notable names are returning to the school, Longbottom, Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, Weasley. He sees faces both past and present as he looks at the students, and wonders if Minerva does too as she reads out their names one by one. Perhaps, he thinks, watching as her gaze loses focus, she is too preoccupied with the one who is not there to really see those who are. He wonders if she blames herself for what happened, wonders if she is saddened by Harry Potter's absence. He can almost _feel_ the smug satisfaction of Severus Snape off to his right, and he thinks that at least one person is not disappointed at the turn of events. As he starts the students eating, Albus is aware of Severus Snape actually starting a conversation, with Quirrell. He knows, then, where the first feint will come and how he will defend against it.

He smiles at the fact.

***

AN: For anyone interested in the minor details of this chapter's writing style, the ways in which the different characters are referred to is an indication of their personality/relationships with the other characters. McGonagall refers to both Dumbledore and Snape by their first names and is objectively referred to as 'Minerva McGonagall' – she is the 'knowing innocent' of the three, she has all the information but believes in Dumbledore and thus trusts Snape's reform to be genuine. Snape refers to Dumbledore by his surname or first and second names – he has no respect for Dumbledore's meddling and would turn on him in an instant if the Imperious curse was removed. He refers to McGonagall by her first name or 'Professor' – although he respects her teaching abilities, he finds her blind naivety irritating and cannot understand why she can't see the truth that's right in front of her. Snape is objectively referred to by some variant of his title – he is the 'unwilling puppet' of the three, he has all the information and can see the truth but is forced to dance to Dumbledore's tune by the Imperious curse. Dumbledore refers to McGonagall by her first name and Snape by his first name or first and second names – he has no respect for his puppets except the show of respect required to maintain his facade. Dumbledore is objectively referred to using some variant of his title and/or name – he is the 'manipulator' of the three, he is constantly assessing events and adjusting plans that stretch over decades, both McGonagall's attempts to rationalise everything he does and Snape's attempts to escape his influence amuse him. 

Anyone who picked up the tense change in Sept 1st 1991, it's deliberate – the timelines are converging. 

And finally, the first year Voldemort attack is just a feint because Voldemort is well aware that the Elixir of Life is useless to him – it can only prolong life, not give him back a body or his strength – Quirrell, however, might have some hopes that it would negate the deleterious effects of the unicorn blood. 

So, reviews!

_Reviews from Serpentine Chapter 3_   
Ranchan17: glad you liked it. I had no idea that snakes engaged in male/male sex – alas, for the integrity of my fic, I'm going to claim author's licence and stick with the logical 'sex-only-for-procreation' view (humans, of course, are anything but logical when it comes to such things ><) 

Silver-Entrantress-Elf: good – that's what I like to hear! 

PxW: *blushes* I can honestly say, I wouldn't have done it without your wonderful challenge *bows* As for Harry remaining a snake and topping forever…well, just not going to happen now that he knows ol' Voldie still wants him as a human, the snake is a defensive form that he feels more comfortable in around anyone else, around Voldemort he's relaxed enough to be human (mostly anyway), besides, he gets more pleasure himself out of sex in his human form. *grins* 

foxychibi: *smirks* I _could_ make the activities a little more specific, however it would have been forced and stilted, and not very good – that sort of thing gets written at the time or not at all I'm afraid. Plus there's the vigilantes to watch out for… 

borne-shadow-childe: *basks in warm glow of another satisfied reviewer* thanks for the review! 

ApocSM: the idea is entirely PxW's. As for the Aurors, Dumbledore and Severus…well, it wasn't graphically clear in Serpentine, but the reason Severus was spared should slowly become clearer as Corvine continues 

CelticCross83: alas, as I explained above, the smut in this case didn't want to be written. *shrugs* maybe it will turn up at the end of Corvine, but I guarantee nothing. 

shadow: thanks…and yes – apart from this, the humble companion piece *grins*

_Reviews from Corvine Chapter 2_   
Cocotitch: here *mutters* bloody persistant housemate o' mine. Now go do your assignments and let me do mine! The muses are bad enough on their own without _your_ encouragement *glares* ><;;


	4. The Philosophers Stone

Category: Book   
Sub Category: Harry Potter 

Series Title: Corvine 

Title: The Philosopher's Stone 

Genres: General - cause I can't think what else it would go under, really   
Language: English   
Author: Zephyr5 

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Companion to 'Serpentine': Dumbledore's scheming has backfired in a big way - Harry Potter is Missing, Presumed Dead. Without a saviour, without a backup, and without a clue, the wizarding world is completely unaware of the repercussions of Dumbledore's meddling - but for how long?

Warnings: mention of male/male relationship later, dark!Harry, confused!Snape, Slytherin-like!Dumbledore, eventual character death. Oh, and everyone's probably horribly OOC…

Spoiler Warnings: none - this is AU through and through (obviously, since he gets abandoned before the books really get started)

Disclaimers: I do not own the canon Harry Potter characters who make an appearance, I do, however, own the idea of Nye, shadow vipers, and the plot – oh and the various stuff listed in the ANs at the end.

AN: lot of authors notes at the end, this, the important one, is to inform you that the next chapter won't be out until at least late May due to RL interfering.

**The Philosopher's Stone**

No one knew why the third floor corridor was out of bounds, but the threat of a 'gruesome' death was more than enough to keep the vast majority of students from attempting to sate their curiosity. No one could ever accuse any student bearing the surname of Weasley of being part of the majority though.

Percy Weasley, Gryffindor Prefect, made no bones about the fact that the prefects hadn't been informed _why_ the corridor was out of bounds – loudly and with pointed glances at the Headmaster after it had been announced. But he had more than enough on his hands with studying and prefect duties, and besides, he was firmly of the opinion that those in authority would only withhold information with good reason.

Fred and George Weasley, identical twins with a reputation for pranks and mischief, only found their interest in the third floor corridor piqued by the fact that no one – except, presumably, the teachers – knew why the corridor was off limits. They had shared one of their silent conversations as Percy muttered not-so-quietly at the feast, and had decided there and then to get to the bottom of the mystery.

Ronald Weasley, the youngest brother, had seen the glance the twins had shared, and had immediately demanded to be let in on the conversation. Whilst Fred and George had seemed sceptical at his usefulness, they had nonetheless included him in their plans. Plans which _didn't_ include getting detention for being late to Transfiguration…

***

Unfortunately, a staircase had shifted as he was en route to the Transfiguration classroom, forcing him to take a detour. He accepted McGonagall's lecture, greatly relieved that she didn't assign a detention _or_ take points, and slid into the shared desk, which, for some reason, he had to himself. It was, if he had been looking for it – and had known what to look for – another mystery. Hogwarts was a frugal castle – she never made more than she needed, and yet, consistently, Gryffindor had one more of everything; one more bed in the boy's dorm, one more place at the table in the great hall, one more seat in every lesson.

McGonagall, as one of the few privileged to know the truth, but also as Head of Gryffindor House, knew both of the strange occurrence and the reason for it. She held onto it as a thin straw of hope – hope that perhaps Harry Potter _was_ alive. But she wisely kept this hope close to her chest, reasoning that if Albus had also noticed this, then he was capable of drawing his own conclusions, and that if Severus had noticed, he was unlikely to share her sentiments. There was bad blood between Severus and Harry's father, James Potter.

***

It was Halloween quicker than anyone might have expected, and still the three Gryffindors had yet to manage a foray into the forbidden corridor. There was always an obstacle, either a teacher, Filch – or Mrs Norris – or simply the staircases refusing to move so that they could reach the door. As much as they hated to admit it, the mystery of the third floor corridor looked set to stay that way. Even the twin's most prized possession, a magical map that showed Hogwart's hidden passages and secret passwords, was confounded.

Still, the Halloween feast was no place for moaning about what they couldn't do, and all three Weasley brothers were making the most of the sumptuous food on offer. It was Ron who, remembering a comment he had made earlier that had caused a fellow Gryffindor to rush off in tears, noticed the vacant seat. Well, the _extra_ vacant seat – the Gryffindors had accepted the usual extra seat by now.

"Hey, Neville, where's Hermione?" He called across the table. Neville leaned towards him conspiratorially.

"Parvati Patil told me she locked herself in the girl's bathroom. Says she's been crying in there all afternoon." Ron raised an eyebrow in astonishment – _all_ afternoon? That was some serious crying.

"And I thought Ginny could be bad." He muttered. Neville looked like he might ask who Ginny was, but before he could frame the question, the doors to the great hall swung open to admit Professor Quirrell.

"Troll – in the dungeon!" The DADA teacher shrieked, causing a few people to wonder if he had any banshee relations. "Troll in the dungeon!" He repeated, ensuring everyone's attention was on him as he paused half-way up the hall, staring wide-eyed at the head table. "Thought you ought to know." He finished weakly, and then promptly fainted. It took a moment for his words to sink in, then chaos erupted at all four tables. A stampede slowly started for the doors of the great hall, and Ron quickly threaded his way through the Gryffindor ranks to reach his brothers.

"Silence!" Dumbledore's voice – probably magically amplified – cut across the panicked babble and effectively halted everyone in their tracks. "You will please not panic." The Headmaster continued. "Prefects, lead your houses to their dorms, you will stay there until your head of house tells you it is safe. Teachers, come with me to the dungeons." Chaos gave way to order and the authoritative shouts of the house prefects, and the great hall quickly emptied. No one noticed Snape quietly slipping out of a side door and _not_ heading to the dungeons with the other teachers.

***

It was as they left the hall that Ron remembered about Hermione – both that she hadn't been at the feast, and therefore didn't know about the troll, and also that the reason she wasn't at the feast was because of him. He'd completely forgotten about the comment he'd made that afternoon to Seamus as they walked between classes…

***FLASHBACK***

There had only been one person who had successfully levitated their feather in that day's Charms class – Hermione Granger. The frizzy-haired brunette was sickeningly pretentious – almost, Merlin forbid, as bad as Malfoy – and had been quite condescending in her manner as she complained about the pronunciation of the incantation.

"'Win-_gar_-dium Levi-_o_-sa!'" He mimicked Hermione's tone and pantomimed the swish-and-flick of a wand. Seamus, face still blackened where he had exploded his own feather, snickered slightly. "Honestly," Ron continued, muttering loudly. "It's no surprise she doesn't have any friends." There was a sudden and loud sob from behind them, and then the girl in question brushed past at a run, shoulders starting to shake as her hurt tears began to flow…

***END FLASHBACK***

"Gred! Forge!" Ron hissed, grabbing at his brothers robes and pulling them into the shadows of the corridor. The brothers exchanged glances and grinned.

"Quite right little brother." Gred approved.

"This is the _perfect_ opportunity…" Forge continued.

"…to explore that corridor…" Gred smoothly took over.

"…if the staircases cooperate." Forge finished. Ron shook his head.

"Hermione – she doesn't know about the troll." There was a pause as Gred and Forge held one of the silent conversations that so irritated their mother. Finally they shrugged, and with matching grimaces of resignation, gestured for him to lead the way.

***

From his position at the end of the head table – a position he knew wasn't accidental – it was easy for Professor Snape to slip, unseen by anyone, out of the side door rather than following the rest of the teachers as they flocked behind Dumbledore towards the dungeons. It was a shame that the Imperious spell meant he was bound to protect the stone rather than recovering it and helping Quirrell – who reeked so much of Dark magic that he _had_ to be in contact with the Dark Lord frequently – to resurrect the Dark Lord. Still, he would work as close to the line as he could, and hopefully, if the fool managed to report his words to their master correctly, the Dark Lord would realise what Dumbledore had done to him.

The staircases were already positioned for him to ascend to the third floor corridor, but the Potions Master could tell he was still ahead of Quirrell by the way they remained in place after he had moved off them. The torches of the corridor flared brightly ahead of him, bracketing with a moving escort of light and showing him the path towards an innocuous looking wooden door. Taking a deep breath – and deciding that whatever was on the other side was in dire need of a breath-freshening charm – he cast an unlocking charm, opened the door, and stepped into the room beyond…

***

It had been easy to slip away from the mass of students unnoticed, although quite what the Gryffindor prefects would do when they discovered they were missing four students, none of the Weasley brothers considered. Instead they made haste for the girl's toilets – Hermione's last known location…

Unfortunately the troll was headed there too – and it got there first…

***

Hermione came out of the toilet stall feeling much better and with a new resolution. The sorting hat _had_ placed her in Gryffindor after all, she would show them all that she was a true Gryffindor and would rise above the petty taunts of those who _obviously_ didn't care to learn. Wiping the last of the tears from her eyes, it slowly dawned on her that she was not alone in the toilets. Glancing to the left revealed large and warty grey feet…slowly she looked up…and into the puzzled face of an adult Mountain troll.

Eyes widening in fear, she dove back into the stall and ducked down, just in time to avoid the club as it smashed through the tops of the three rightmost stalls and the one in which she cowered. Covered in debris, and fully aware that she was most likely going to die, Hermione shrieked like a banshee and began to wriggle through the gap at the bottom of the stall partition…

***

Hearing the scream from within, Fred, George and Ron burst into the toilets to find the troll readying for a second swing at the still-standing toilet stalls.

"Hermione! Watch out!" Ron yelled, wincing as the second strike – high like the first – brought more debris down around the brunette's ears.

Abandoning her dignity in favour of possible survival, Hermione scurried into the corner beneath the sinks and tried to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible. It might have worked – had the troll not already fixated on her, as it remained blissfully unaware of the three boys behind it, now throwing pieces of debris in an attempt to attract its attention.

Screaming once more as she narrowly avoided the next downswing of the club – two sinks shattering and the taps beginning to fountain water where they were broken – Hermione was relieved as a half-brick to the forehead _finally_ caught the troll's attention.

Unfortunately, attracting the attention of the troll was as far as their plan had gone, prompting a rapid retreat backwards as it slowly turned towards them. Fred and George made it safely, but Ron stumbled over one of the broken stall partitions, falling to the ground and slightly dazing himself.

The three Gryffindors watched in horror as the troll – moving faster than they had expected – swooped down and hoisted the red-head into the air by his legs.

"Do something!" Ron screamed, somehow managing to duck upwards and avoid the club that the troll swung at him.

"What?" Hermione yelled back, searching in vain for her wand before spying it across the room, well out of reach as well as trapped under debris.

"Anything!" The red-head yelped, ducking upwards again – much to the troll's bemusement.

"_Wingardium leviosa!_" Fred pronounced, leaving the troll even more bemused as it swung for a third time – only to have its club remain behind. Face screwed up in confusion, it looked around at the hovering weapon, clearly not comprehending and watching dumbly as the club rose and then smartly smacked it on the head. With a loud groan its eyes rolled back and it dropped Ron – who wisely scuttled out of its way on hands and knees as it toppled over.

"Is it dead?" Hermione queried, retrieving her wand before quickly stepping around the prone creature so that it was no longer between her and the exit.

"Just stunned I think." Ron replied, picking himself up off the floor and watching the twins as they cautiously prodded the creature.

***

Professor Snape emerged from the room much faster than he had entered it, and with considerably less dignity – not to mention the shredded trouser leg and bite wound. Locking the door once more – with a _much_ stronger locking spell this time – he leaned against the wall and sighed, flinching slightly as claws scratched against the wood in a futile effort to reach him.

His relief at his narrow escape – really, a name like 'Fluffy' did _not_ inspire one to think of three-headed dogs, although with an owner like Hagrid… - almost led him to miss the torches at the furthest end flickering out, almost led him to miss the quick flick of a black robe as it vanished out onto the stairs.

Frowning – he'd really hoped to be able to catch Quirrell in the act and drop some heavy hints, although he'd then also have been obligated to report to Dumbledore – Professor Snape limped heavily down the corridor and onto the landing. He was just in time to see a turbaned figure hastening downwards. Smirking, and ignoring the pain in his leg, he headed after Quirrell.

***

"Misters Weasley - and Miss Granger!" Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, swept into the girls toilets looking ready to throw the three to the troll – an expression that swiftly faded as she took in the scene. She had been most displeased to be contacted by one of the Gryffindor prefects with the information that four Gryffindors – three of them Weasleys – were missing. Albus had simply smiled at her in that benign manner of his, blue eyes twinkling, and quietly assured her that they could deal with the troll – when they found it – whilst she went and found her errant students.

Now that she had found said students, she was at a loss, because she had also found the troll – currently insensible on the floor. Movement behind her caught her attention, and she swung around to discover Professor Quirrell, who, she thought absently, looked quite put out, as well as out of breath. She wondered briefly how he had known where to find the troll, but then, rounding the corner from the same direction as Quirrell had come, was a heavily-limping Severus.

She turned back to the four Gryffindors and the troll, the matter settled in her mind. Clearly Severus had encountered the troll and been injured in the process. Quirinus in turn had to have encountered Severus who told him the direction in which the troll was heading.

***

"What on earth were you thinking of?" Minerva McGonagall demanded of the four students. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?" The four Gryffindors – who knew exactly how close their luck had come – remained silent, Ron and Hermione both too intimidated – both by their Head of House and Professor Snape – Fred and George knowing that, especially with their involvement, the truth was unlikely to be believed.

"Please, Professor McGonagall – they were looking for me." Hermione suddenly said, her voice hushed and her eyes downcast, a faint blush tinting her cheeks. "I went looking for the troll because I – I thought I could deal with it on my own – you know, because I've read all about them." Ron gaped, starting to protest before Fred swiftly kicked him in the calf.

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now." She finished, shooting an honestly grateful look at George. Fred tried not to look too irritated that his twin was getting _his_ credit, and settled for kicking him in the calf too.

"Well – in that case…" Minerva McGonagall didn't look entirely convinced – the Weasley twins were involved after all – and Professor Snape didn't look convinced in the slightest – although that might have been on the general principle that it was Gryffindors involved. "Ten points from Gryffindor for your foolishness Miss Granger." Professor Snape smirked at her judgement. "Five points to each of you for showing the true Gryffindor spirit – and Headmaster Dumbledore will be informed. Off you go." The four Gryffindors fled from the thunderous expression of the Potions Master – Gred and Forge snickering as they pointed out to the other two that their Head of House had just managed to leave them up by five points.

They paused outside the portrait that led to the Gryffindor common room and for a moment there was an uneasy silence.

"Thanks." Hermione whispered, not quite catching anyone's eyes.

"S'ok." Ron muttered back. "Friends?"

***

Christmas came and went without anything unusual occurring, and without any success on the part of the Weasley twins when it came to investigating the third floor corridor. By the time Ron's birthday came around, all four – Hermione having been included into the group after the incident at Halloween – had pretty much given up. It wasn't so much a case of the trail going cold, as the fact that there was no trail at all, just an inaccessible corridor.

By March 23rd, however, the three Weasley brothers had quite enough on their hands, as Hermione, not content to simply start preparing for her own end of year exams, also began to nag at them – more than usual – to begin their own preparations. Given a choice between devoting their energy to infiltrating an isolated corridor – which wouldn't contain anything of great importance, because this was, after all, Hogwarts _school_ – and avoiding Hermione's pre-exam studying frenzies, none of the Weasleys found it difficult to choose. The corridor and its secrets were gradually forgotten.

***

Quirrell was late, and if there was one thing Snape neither liked nor tolerated, it was tardiness. The fact that he was standing in a shadowy clearing in the Forbidden Forest, and that night was starting to fall, was just another reason for irritation. But at least there was no fear of discovery. Hagrid was fully occupied preparing for the dragon egg he had 'won' to hatch – a fact that Dumbledore had, 'accidentally' happened to mention at the evening meal. Snape glared into the darkness, and wondered if the Headmaster had ever heard of the word 'subtlety'.

Finally, preceded by noises that strongly suggested he had no woodcraft skills whatsoever, Quirrell stepped into view.

Snape, quite well concealed in the gloomy shadows and dark brown cloak, sneered as the defence professor looked anxiously around. The Dark Lord's followers included not a few cowards, but the fact that Quirrell was – to his mind anyway – quite blatantly going after the Philosopher's Stone suggest that the man did have a backbone of some sort. Even if it was exceptionally well hidden.

Stepping forwards, deliberately breaking a branch underfoot, Snape smirked and threw back the hood of his cloak as Quirrell jumped and whirled, fumbling for his wand as he did so.

"You are late." He coldly informed the man, trying - now that he didn't have to worry about concealing some of his more…interesting…talents from Dumbledore - to more clearly define the whys and wherefores of the traces of the Dark Lord's magic that clung to Quirrell like a shroud.

"I-I d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus…" Quirrell stuttered, turning to keep Snape in view as the potions master circled him, dark eyes seeming to somehow see through him to something else. Something deeper and more fundamental than mere physical presence.

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private." Snape commented, almost offhand except for the iciness of his tone. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone, after all." He stiffened in shock as the Dark Lord's magic shifted and surged around the stuttering defence professor. Could it be…? He hid his panic well, and quashed the urge to try and spill all. Not only was there the possibility that Quirrell was some sort of test of loyalty designed by Dumbledore, but the Headmaster's spell was such that if he _did_ try and spill all…well, the consequences wouldn't be nice.

"Sseveruss…" Unable to stop his eyes widening a fraction, Snape, most uncharacteristically, leapt in before his 'suspicion' could be confirmed beyond doubt.

"I would hope that those interested in the stone would be well aware that any _dark_ purposes I knew of – beyond a _shadow_ of a doubt, of course – I would _have_ to report to the Headmaster." He prayed that his message was understood. For a long moment there was silence between them, although he could just hear the soft murmur of Quirrell mumbling something – apparently to himself.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?" Snape demanded, needing something to report – if, or rather, when Dumbledore asked.

"B-b-but Severus, I…" Snape's eyes narrowed at the pleading tone in the other man's voice.

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell." He warned, taking a step towards the other man. Quirrell stumbled backwards a step and then halted, unnaturally still. Snape arched an eyebrow in question.

"I-I don't know what you…" Snape suppressed the urge to sigh. Quirrell's only defence appeared to be the fact that he was the _last_ person _anyone_ would peg as being _any_ sort of danger – except maybe to himself. After that the man relied on stuttering denial.

"You know perfectly well what I mean." An owl hooted loudly, warning Snape of how late it was becoming. "_I've_ seen through your little bit of hocus pocus. Do you honestly think that Dumbledore _hasn't_?" There was no response, unless you counted Quirrell's eyes frantically darting glances everywhere but at him. "I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't –" Quirrell began stuttering again, trying to sound confused, and not quite succeeding.

"Very well," Snape cut in, deciding he had little patience and less time left. The Headmaster would be starting to wonder where he was, and what he was doing. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie." He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing, leaving Quirrell, standing quite still as though he was petrified.

***

The 'little chat' that Snape had promised Quirrell came almost a week into May. In a move too bold for an 'unmotivated' Professor Quirrell, the stuttering man told the potions master – without any sign of a stutter – to meet him in the same clearing where they had met previously.

***

Snape wasn't sure what Quirrell was up to. The first impression of the man was that he was a stuttering fool, nerves shattered by a visit to Transylvania and barely competent to teach. The first assumption had been shattered by the clear delivery of his request to meet. The second was shattered as Quirrell appeared, quite soundlessly, not on the Hogwarts side of the clearing, but from deeper within the forest.

Snape was now almost certain that vampires hadn't been the only thing Quirrell had encountered in Transylvania, and chose not to mention that he was, again, late – this time to a meeting that he had set. There was something different about the man's aura, something that made him seem more powerful, that was almost seductive, but most definitely _dark_. It was almost as if he carried with him the very essence of the Dark Lord.

"We both know where our loyalties lie, no matter how deceptive the appearances." Snape allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief. The Dark Lord had heard and understood the message from the previous conversation with Quirrell.

"You understand that I have little leeway in which to aid you? That I will be forced to come after you?" Quirrell nodded.

"I-I understand p-perfectly, Severus." Snape smirked.

"I will, however, provide you with some Black Ice potion, in case you should feel the desire to test your sixth-year students on Darkfire Imps." Quirrell nodded again, his smirk matching the potion master's.

"My th-thanks, P-Professor Snape." It was a dismissal, or at least Snape chose to see it as such. With a last nod of recognition, he turned, robes swirling, and headed back to the castle.

***

It was the middle of May when Quirrell began to feel himself starting to fade, to lose control of where he ended and the Dark Lord began. It was not the first time, nor likely the last – unless he failed to get the Philosopher's Stone, died, or both.

As the end of the month approached, Quirrell's stutter increased, a sign, had anyone known to look for it, of his increasing struggle to keep himself and the Dark Lord separate. But there was only one real – albeit temporary – solution until he claimed the Philosopher's Stone, and loath as he was to use it, on the evening of May 30th, Quirinus Quirrell found himself preparing once more to enter the Forbidden Forest and _hunt_.

***

When Dumbledore, a suspicious twinkle in his eye, fire-called Snape the night of June 4th, and told him that he had received an urgent owl from the Ministry and would be leaving for London immediately, he knew it was time. The message was a decoy, and the twinkle in Dumbledore's eye said that the Headmaster knew full well it was decoy. That, the Slytherin part of his mind told him, meant that there was _something_ amongst all the defences that only the Headmaster knew about. Some failsafe – most likely lethal – that he knew neither Quirrell nor Snape could bypass.

This was as much a test of Snape's loyalty as it was a blow at Voldemort's pride.

***

Knowing that there was a failsafe, Snape didn't bother to delay longer than it took for him to grab several potions and store them safely about his person. With the addition of a few knives – three throwing, two fighting – and both his primary and secondary wands, he was ready to go.

***

The staircase to the third floor corridor, unsurprisingly, cooperated by moving as soon as he stepped onto it, rotating carefully from one side of the school to the other. Also unsurprisingly, as soon as he stepped off and into the third floor corridor, it swung smoothly back.

At least, Snape thought with some gratitude, he wouldn't need to worry about idiot children trying to investigate.

The torches flared to life, surrounding him with a deceptively warm and friendly glow as he strode towards the incongruous wooden door. Last time he'd been there, he'd ended up fleeing somewhat the worse for wear. This time though…

"_Alohomora_." He whispered, not wishing to give the creature behind the door too much advance warning. He knew how to subdue the three-headed dog, but that was of little use if the giant creature went to sleep right on top of the trapdoor.

Gingerly he opened the door, wincing a little as its hinges squeaked, the incantation of the music spell on his lips. But the dog, _Fluffy_, he thought, somewhat bitterly, was already asleep. The gentle tones of a harp explained why. Quirrell, or so it seemed, hadn't been sure how long it would take him to get through the trapdoor…the trapdoor that was currently covered by a giant paw.

Snape glared at the sleeping dog, and then suspiciously at the still-playing harp. He wouldn't have put it past Quirrell to enchant the thing to stop playing at the least opportune time, after all, Severus was supposed to be trying to stop him. Carefully Snape narrowed his eyes and extended his senses. There didn't _seem_ to be any other spells in the room except for the _priori canto_ that was making the harp play. Still, the potions master was not a Slytherin for no reason, and Quirrell making it so easy for him to get past the first obstacle was highly suspicious.

Casting '_canto_' on all three of the dog's heads, Snape cast _finite incantatem_ on the harp. Silence fell, but the dog continued to snore lightly. With a whispered levitation charm, Snape carefully moved the obstructing paw from atop the trapdoor. After another minute – to reassure himself that the music spell was working, and the creature was truly asleep – Snape walked over to the trapdoor, opened it, and, wand in hand, dropped lightly into the darkness.

***

Snape landed on a surface that was soft and yielding – definitely _not_ stone. A quick _lumos_ revealed that he was standing on a rather large specimen of Devil's Snare. For a moment he contemplated the thought that maybe he should have thrown down an explosive incendiary potion first, but he hadn't expected a plant of this magnitude, and the explosion might very well have woken the three-headed dog.

Deciding that discretion had been the better idea when dealing with the unknown factors that were inherent in any of Hagrid's 'pets', Snape drew himself up as much as possible whilst slowly sinking into a plant.

"_Ignio noir_." He intoned, defining a tight circle around himself. Instantly a ring of fire sprang to life, the dark flames invisible in the lightless room, but the searing heat harsh against his legs. The Devil's Snare instantly flinched away, allowing Snape to drop into the chamber below. Unfortunately the Darkfire would burn until it was extinguished with Black Ice, and Snape grinned nastily at the sound of the plant above trying to escape the burning pain and only succeeding in spreading it.

Dumbledore would not be pleased at the use of Dark magic, and Sprout would undoubtedly be distraught on her plant's behalf. Snape smirked in satisfaction – it was worth it, in his view, this rebellion to remind Dumbledore that he could never entirely draw the fangs of his 'pet' serpent without killing him. And if he couldn't deal with a mere Death Eater…well, what chance did he stand against the Dark Lord himself? Especially now he no longer had his 'prophesied' saviour to hide behind.

As he sauntered over to the door on the far side of the chamber, Snape knew his pleased expression would have had any student who saw him wondering whom he had just killed. He didn't care. No students were going to see him, and so he relished in the euphoric feeling of power sliding across his skin, the after-effect of using Dark magic, and the reason that those too weak to resist its lure became addicted. At the same time he could feel a faint weakness in his limbs, the _price_ of using Dark magic, and the reason that death quickly followed addiction. Dark magic – truly Dark magic, not whatever the Ministry decided was dark – depended on a number of things, mainly intent and willpower, but also on the physical strength of the caster. A sufficiently powerful Dark spell could take weeks to fully recover from, and it would be a day at least before he recovered from conjuring Darkfire on the Devil's Snare.

Still, he didn't care. It was the only Dark magic that he intended to use, and the Black Ice potion was easy enough to make, quick enough too when its only purpose was to extinguish Darkfire.

Savouring the magical high, Snape opened the door, and stepped into the next room.

***

Ignoring the brooms and the keys flying around the tower, Snape stared at the locked door opposite. Almost certain that it would fail, he tried the Alohomora charm.

It failed.

Staring balefully for a minute, Snape suddenly grinned.

"_Recludius!_" He shouted, concentrating on the old silver lock. For a moment the lock resisted, but then, as Snape pressed his will harder against it, there was an almost sullen 'clunk' and the door quietly swung open a fraction. Smug satisfaction was etched on the potions master's features as he stepped through the doorway, and onto a chessboard.

***

It was, perhaps, the most satisfying of the obstructions so far to overcome. Minerva was a typical Gryffindor, albeit one with exceptional chess skills, but there was chess, and then there were Gryffindor-conjured chess pieces, each of which would have a Gryffindor's ideals.

Curtly ordering the white king aside, Snape took its place and felt a crown materialise on his head, and a sword at his side. His voice, and challenge, rang out across the board.

"I challenge the black king to a duel – winner takes all." There was a long and, as impossible as it should have been for conjured stone to feel, slightly shocked silence. Finally the answer came; the white king pushed forward beyond the pawns, drawing his sword as he came.

Snape likewise advanced beyond his pawns. He was horribly outsized by his opponent, but his expression showed no fear, in fact, he looked as though he believed himself to already have won, not even bothering to draw his own sword.

Stone lips drawn up into a snarling grimace of triumph, the black king drew his sword back, and prepared to deal a sweeping – and killing – blow.

"_Reducto!_" The black king was blasted backwards, the power of the spell drilling a hole into his chest. The stone figure hit the wall of the room and shattered. Snape snorted in derision as the remaining black figures fell into confusion. Some drew their weapons and began advancing, whilst the others didn't seem to know what to do. "I drew only my chosen weapon." Snape pointed out. "And he did not specify that there was to be no magic used, or that I must also fight with a sword."

Grudgingly the black pieces sheathed their weapons and parted before him, revealing the door to the next room. The crown and the sword vanished as he stepped from the board.

***

Snape quickly passed through the room with the unconscious troll, unwilling to linger in its malodorous stench for a second longer than he had to. Equally quickly he selected the small vial of Black Ice potion and stepped through the barrier of Darkfire into the last chamber. Still, he was too late. As Snape stepped through the Darkfire and time seemed to slow to a crawl.

He saw the mirror of Erised.

He saw Quirrell facing _him_ whilst the _Dark Lord_ peered into the mirror from the back of Quirrell's head.

He saw and recognised the stone the mirror image was slipping into Quirrell's pocket.

There was a throaty cackle of laughter, and Quirrell reached into his pocket as Snape screamed 'no' and time jerked back to its normal speed as the Heartstone activated…

***

Dumbledore arrived six minutes and thirty-seven seconds after the Dark Lord's spirit fled, screaming in rage and vowing revenge. Each minute and second weighed heavily on Snape's mind. He had been so close, so close to freedom, and now… Now he had to listen as Dumbledore gloated, rubbing in the fact that he had outwitted Voldemort and was still Snape's master.

The Devil's Snare was, as Snape had predicted, a sore matter, but Dumbledore took his revenge in subtle ways. Instead of allowing his potions master to brew the non-restricted Black Ice Exstinguo potion, and extinguishing the Darkfire-ravaged plant that way, he used the threat of the Heartstone – which wouldn't kill Snape, but would cause him excruciating pain – to force him to cast the Black Ice spell. By the end of it, Snape was slumped on the floor, too weak to stand, and had a month of slow recovery to come.

But he also had the knowledge that the Dark Lord's spirit yet lived, and the hope that his true master would some day return.

***

And now the many, many author notes that accompany this chapter…

AN: This is some weird film/book/AU hybrid, basically there are bits completely from the film (Quirrell announcing the troll), bits completely from the book (Snape's confrontation of Quirrell in the Forbidden Forest), bits from both (Snape dealing with the Devil's Snare and falling into the room below), and bits completely AU (anything not from the film or book)   
AN: For the purposes of fitting things in across the school year, the timeline is somewhat different to the canon timeline. Several events don't happen because Harry is not there, and other events occur instead. E.g. The Gringotts connection is never made because Harry wasn't with Hagrid. Ron and Hermione don't become close friends with Hagrid, as in the book, because Harry isn't there to be the connecting factor. Similarly, Dumbledore takes care of Norbert on the quiet – no trio, no detention in the forest, no Malfoy. Etc.   
AN: 'Fred' and 'George' are the twins 'serious' sides, whilst 'Gred' and 'Forge' are the twin pranksters we all know and love. Just in case anyone thought I was losing it ;)

AN: a list and description of all the potions, creatures and spells that belong to me, in order of appearance: 

**Black Ice potion** – protects the drinker against Darkfire, extinguishes Darkfire or creates Black Ice. Restricted potion due to the Dark Arts status of Black Ice.   
**Darkfire Imps** - The Darkfire Imp is similar to the more well-known 'Common' Imp (see Fantastic Beasts and where to find them). It is about 1 foot tall and is coloured white at birth but blackens with age due to the Darkfire in which they are wreathed. Darkfire Imps live in desert or rocky areas and are nocturnal. They have no sense of humour, and a vicious temper, but prefer to avoid conflict where possible. It is unknown what they eat. They are classified as a dark creature due to the Darkfire that surrounds them.   
**Music spell** – incantation _Canto_ from the Latin _Cantus_ (music). Plays music that only the target of the spell can hear. The target must have heard music recently for the spell to be effective. The effects wear off naturally after an hour, or if _Finite incantatem_ is used.   
**Musician spell** – incantation _Priori Canto_ from the Latin _Prior_ (preceding) and the Latin _Cantus_ (music). Enchants a musical instrument to play music. The instrument plays the last melody/series of melodies played on it. The effects wear off once the end of the prior melodies is reached.   
**Explosive Incendiary potion** – any potion or combination of potions that can be used to create a fireball effect.   
**Darkfire spell** – incantation _Ignio Noir_ from the Latin _Ignis_ (fire) and the French _Noir_ (black). Conjures Darkfire onto surfaces or melts Black Ice as directed by the wand motion. Energy intensive. Classified as a Dark Arts spell.   
**Darkfire** – magical fire that occurs naturally around Darkfire Imps. Can be conjured using the Darkfire spell, and can then only be extinguished by the Black Ice spell. Incredibly hot, Darkfire will cause extreme pain if conjured on something capable of feeling pain, it will not, however, cause much in the way of physical damage.   
**Black Ice spell** – incantation _Glacia Noir_ from the Latin _Glacies_ (ice) and the French _Noir_ (black). Extinguishes Darkfire or conjures Black Ice onto surfaces as directed by the wand motion. Energy intensive. Classified as a Dark Arts spell.   
**Unlocking spell** – incantation _Recludius_ from the Latin _Recludere_ (unlock). Very powerful but narrowly focussed. Success depens a great deal on the concentration and willpower of the caster.   
**Heartstone** – a blood red stone almost identical to the Philosopher's Stone. Infused with the pure love of a mother, the stone will destroy anyone who touches it if they have ever willingly, intentionally and directly killed a child or tried to kill a child. It causes decreasing amounts of pain in proportion to the level of harm, intent, motive and combination thereof.   
**Black Ice Exstinguo potion** – extinguishes Darkfire. Non-restricted as it is poisonous if drunk and not powerful enough to create Black Ice. _Exstinguo_ Latin meaning 'to extinguish'.

And, last but not least, review responses!

_Serpentine Chapter 3:   
Bella Snape:_ heh, yeah, very hard to do credible OCs. *hugs sympathetically* people like that take things to the opposite extreme, I've seen one or two in my travels. I'm glad you like Serpentine and Corvine, I hope you continue to enjoy the way Corvine turns out. Possession has to be one of the best fics I've read, probably only equalled by the FF7 fic 'A Long Hard Road' on Noire Sensus. As for my H/V recommendations, here's a list:   
**On ff.net:**   
Le Péché Mortel de la Chimére (it's in English, don't panic!)   
One Winged Angel   
Salir   
Something Lost, Something Found   
Abandon   
Friend or Foe   
On This Cross (hasn't been updated for a while)   
Viper (hasn't been updated for a while)   
**On other sites:**   
Irreversible Destiny (adultfanfiction.net, author: SheWolfe7)   
Acataleptic (skyehawke.com, author: taligator)   
Hope you enjoy them! 

_ASquealinfgYaoiFanGirl:_ Thank you, and thanks for the review! 

_The One Who Creeps You Out:_ Better safe than sorry when it comes to ff.net and warnings/ratings etc. Thanks for the review!

_Corvine Chapter 3:   
borne-shadow-childe:_ *continues basking and gets virtual tan…followed by virtual sunburn* thanks for the review – hope I'm still worthy *grins* 

_Silverthreads: _ hmm…hadn't really thought much about 'protagonists' and the lack thereof… Your review did make me start to think though; this fic isn't necessarily as character-focussed as Serpentine is - although Snape got a fair bit of the attention in this chapter, but so did the Gryffindor Quartet – it's more a look at how Harry's absence caused events to fall out differently to canon. Corvine isn't any single character's journey from point A to point B, it's what was happening whilst Harry (in Serpentine) was travelling from point A to point B, sort of like all the extras in a battle scene that never really get seen because the focus is on the titanic struggle between the Hero and…whoever. As a result Corvine is a lot less focussed, a lot looser in style. Really, as you read Serpentine, you should be able to read what Harry/Hades heard of events, and then switch to the corresponding chapter of Corvine to get a more in-depth idea of what happened. I hope that explains my reasoning/motivation/style a little more – thanks for reviewing!


	5. The Chamber of Secrets

Category: Book   
Sub Category: Harry Potter 

Series Title: Corvine 

Title: The Chamber of Secrets 

Genres: General - cause I can't think what else it would go under, really   
Language: English   
Author: Zephyr5 

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Companion to 'Serpentine': Dumbledore's scheming has backfired in a big way - Harry Potter is Missing, Presumed Dead. Without a saviour, without a backup, and without a clue, the wizarding world is completely unaware of the repercussions of Dumbledore's meddling - but for how long?

Warnings: mention of male/male relationship later, dark!Harry, confused!Snape, Slytherin-like!Dumbledore, eventual character death. Oh, and everyone's probably horribly OOC... Oh yeah, and for het-haters, I'm afraid there's some o' that as well...

Spoiler Warnings: none (technically) - this is AU through and through (obviously, since he gets abandoned before the books really get started), but it's going AU in a direction that I hadn't, until I started writing this chapter for the second time, either thought about or expected...   
Now with Half Blood Prince warnings, since some of the stuff revealed in that played into my hands quite nicely. I haven't read HBP yet (information is from the invaluable HP Lexicon), but I tend to treat any information in fics as 'fanon' until I know for certain it's 'canon', so...

Disclaimers: I do not own the canon Harry Potter characters who make an appearance, I do, however, own the idea of Nye, Nevyn, shadow vipers, and the plot. Also the various potions/spells described at the end are mine.

AN: Year two, and still no Harry... Who (if anyone), will save Ginny and defeat Tom Riddle and his basilisk?   
Dear gods but this was difficult to write...the first two versions were almost carbon copies of the book, and then I started working full-time, which left a very small window for my muses each day. Anyway, I grovel, beg forgiveness, and hope that this meets people's expectations... Enjoy.

**The Chamber of Secrets**

As the shop bell clanged loudly, Draco wondered yet again why he had been permitted to accompany his father on what was obviously a 'business' trip to Diagon Alley.

It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to come, quite the opposite in fact, it was only rarely that he ever got to accompany his father anywhere. No, it was more that he hadn't thought he'd been forgiven yet for the embarrassment he'd caused earlier in the summer holidays.

Draco suppressed a grimace at the memory of the unfortunate incident - involving a wizarding camera, several mice, rope, a basket of figs, and several 'outer circle' Death Eaters - and quickly focused on the first thing he saw, which happened to be a glass eye.

"Touch nothing, Draco." Whilst the cold tone of his father might have sounded the same as usual to anyone else, to Draco - who had, of necessity, learned to distinguish every subtle nuance in the way Lucius Malfoy spoke - it was colder and crisper than usual. He hadn't yet been forgiven, but there was a chance for him to redeem himself...

***

Lucius Malfoy's bargaining had gone well...as such things were measured. He had accepted a lower offer than he would normally have held out for, but with the Ministry - or rather, Arthur Weasley - sniffing around his affairs once more, time was of the essence. Wealth could be re-accumulated far more easily than a ruined reputation. But selling off some of his more...questionable...poisons wasn't the main reason for his presence in Diagon Alley.

His fingers brushed along the spine of the slightly battered book in his pocket, and he reached out with his cane, tapping Draco lightly on the shoulder and indicating that he turn off into a side street. Obediently - although Lucius knew better than to think his son's curious streak had been curbed, even after his punishment for his actions over the summer - the boy turned into the dark and narrow passage...

***

As soon as his father indicated that he should turn off the main alley, Draco knew the moment had come. Now he would finally find out why he had been allowed to accompany his father, and what he had to do in order to begin working his way back into Lucius' good graces. He tried hard to keep any sign of expectation from his face as he tried to imagine what his mission would be. Would it be to spy on some important wizard or witch, maybe follow someone and report on their movements, who they talked to, what they purchased...

Stopping a few feet along the dank and claustrophobic side street, Draco couldn't help but let his mind drift back to Borgin and Burkes. It had been just as his father concluded his deal that he had spotted a cabinet. A perfectly ordinary cabinet as far as he had been able to tell, and yet there had been something...something that inexplicably called to him to investigate it. But unlike a compulsion enchantment - and he'd encountered enough of them to know what they felt like - the urge had been faint, almost as though it was an echo...or something akin to deja vu...

Maybe his mission would be to steal or plant some object in some shop...

"Draco." The slight impatience in his father's voice snapped Draco back to reality.

"Yes father?" Lucius' expression barely changed, and yet Draco could suddenly read suspicion and doubt. He cursed himself for letting his imagination distract him as he found himself subjected to a long, piercing examination, his father's eyes seeming to see right through him to everything he was attempting to hide. The moment stretched, time becoming strangely elastic to the senses, but finally it was over.

Whatever Lucius had, or hadn't, found, Draco breathed once more as his father concisely explained what he was to do.

***

Lucius could tell that Draco hadn't expected to be given the task that he had. He could also tell - since, in his shock, his son had lost all control of his outward expression - that Draco was furious at being given a task so...menial.

The elder Malfoy resisted the urge to snort in amusement and disbelief - only 12, and already his son thought there were things that were 'beneath' him, simply because he had never seen either his father or mother 'get their hands dirty'. But he would learn, eventually, or he would find himself exiled and isolated so that he couldn't 'accidentally' compromise the position of House Malfoy.

"You are clear on what you must do?" Lucius questioned, allowing a little of his displeasure to seep into his words. Whilst he could understand his son's feelings, he had hoped that he'd taught Draco better than to show them so openly. Then again, he thought he'd taught Draco the value of caution and patience, and hadn't _he_ been taught otherwise over the summer...

"Yes, father." Draco's drawl was tinted by his disgust and the realisation that Lucius was being completely serious in what he wanted his son to do. "It's hardly human transfiguration." Lucius' expression went completely blank as Draco wrinkled his nose briefly, the elder Malfoy's displeasure fanned to anger by the casually dismissive attitude of his son. True, Draco had no idea _why_ he was to give Lucius an excuse to be in the vicinity of Arthur Weasley, or even that such was the reason he was to go and be his usual haughty self around the Weasley children...but that was no excuse. If he took this attitude anywhere in sight of the inner circle - or even certain of the outer circle - it would be like sharks scenting blood in the water...

"Hardly human transfiguration." Lucius paraphrased his son, interrupting the diatribe Draco had been about to begin on the subject of Gilderoy Lockhart, and causing the younger Malfoy to swallow as his nerves all returned at once. "Therefore you know how...displeased...I will be should you, in your infinite incompetence, screw up - _again_."

Draco blanched at the open threat, a further indication of just how far out of his father's graces he'd fallen. Forcing his fears down - he had absolutely no desire to see how much being the sole Malfoy heir would protect him if he continued, in his father's eyes, to fail - Draco concentrated on his breathing and mentally pulled himself back together. It would not, after all, do for a Malfoy to appear anything less than cold, calm and collected in front of the masses.

***

Lucius watched his son depart, appearing as though he had all the time in the world, although the elder Malfoy knew that Draco, beneath the Malfoy facade, was a mess of emotions. He waited for a few moments longer, fingers idly caressing the book in his pocket once more, and then calmly followed in his son's wake...

***

Ginevra Weasley still couldn't quite believe it. Gilderoy Lockhart, here, in Flourish and Blotts - and she'd been the 50th person to walk into the shop, winning herself free copies of all his books. Free _autographed_ copies! And then, in addition, he'd chosen the moment in which she was being congratulated and awarded, to announce that he would be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts this year.

"Well, well." A cool voice remarked behind her. "If it isn't another Weasel going to _dis_-grace us with their presence this year. And a Weaselette at that." Draco added as Ginny turned.

A shiver ran down the youngest Weasley's spine as Malfoy looked her up and down - not in the way a boy might appraise a girl, but in the way a butcher eyes a carcass, deciding the best way to butcher it.

But Ginevra Weasley was her mother's daughter, and a true red-head. Plus she'd seen both Ron and Hermione making their way through the crowds towards her. So she narrowed her eyes angrily, and held her ground.

"What's the matter? Cat," Draco sneered in the direction of Hermione, clearly referring to Crookshanks, "got your tongue?" Ginny was saved from answering by the arrival of Ron.

"You." Was Ron's comment as he simultaneously spotted Malfoy and dropped his books unceremoniously into Ginny's cauldron. The expression he turned on Malfoy was one of pure disgust and loathing.

"Yes, me." Draco drawled. "How very eloquent of you, Weasel." Ron flushed. "I'm surprised to see you in here - parents going hungry for a month to pay for that lot?"

"You!" Ron attempted to throw himself at Malfoy, but found himself restrained by both Ginny and Hermione - although the latter looked uncertain whether to maintain the grip on Ron or her precariously balanced books.

Draco watched with interest, wondering why he'd been so incensed by the idea of doing this simple task for his father. It was, after all, an easy way back into his father's good graces - if only a little way back - and it was no more than he would have done on bumping into the youngest Weasel anyway. Plus it was so much fun.

"Phew, it's a madhouse in here." The off-hand comment preceded the arrival of backup for Draco's targets, in the form of Arthur Weasley and the next two oldest Weasley sons - the twins, who were also carrying stacks of Lockhart's books.

Draco debated making a strategic withdrawal. He was far outnumbered now, and one of them was not only legally able to use magic, but also had combat experience from the first war against the Dark Lord. He smirked, and prepared to deliver a parting shot before leaving, but then a cool hand fell on his shoulder, and his smirk deepened. His own reinforcement, his father, had arrived.

***

"Arthur." The greeting was cordial enough...too cordial in fact, and Arthur Weasley knew better than to look on it with anything other than suspicion. Molly had warned him earlier that he might be biting off more than he could handle by deliberately pushing for changes at the Ministry that would rattle Malfoy's chains, but...he had expected neither such an immediate response nor such an open one. There were times when Molly's 'hunches' had been disturbingly accurate in the past, and Arthur suddenly wondered if he _had_ bitten off more than he was ready for.

"Lucius." He returned, tone neutral. The elder Malfoy's lips twitched, ever-so-slightly. Arthur wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Busy time at the Ministry, so I hear." Part of Arthur Weasley's mind cheered - this _was_ about the changes he was trying to bring about, Malfoy was worried - but the rest of his mind was nervously wondering what the hell Malfoy had planned... That they were in a highly public place was absolutely no reassurance.

"Hope they're paying you overtime?" Lucius continued, reaching into Ginny's cauldron and pulling out a battered book, at the same time moving so that there was a clear path between himself and the Weasley patriarch. Arthur flushed, angry that Malfoy was stooping to involving the children, but unsurprised. "Apparently not." The elder Malfoy continued, raising an eyebrow as he looked the Weasleys over.

"What's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if it doesn't pay?" Lucius mocked, quite pointedly referring to the visible patches and mends on the clothes of all the Weasleys. Arthur flushed a dark red in anger, but still he managed to hold himself back from any rash actions.

Lucius, watching Arthur Weasley's reactions very closely - although it looked as though he couldn't care less - knew that the man was on the very edge of losing control. All it needed was one final, decisive blow... His gaze swept across the Weasleys and landed on the Grangers, Hermione's parents having finally made it through the crowd to their daughter. His expression barely changed, but he suddenly seemed to exude satisfaction.

"The company you keep - and I thought your family could sink no lower..." Arthur Weasley, urged on by his twin sons, and blatantly ignoring his wife's cries to stop - from somewhere in the crowd behind him - slammed bodily into the elder Malfoy. The impact sent both men staggering into a bookcase, which rocked violently, sending a shower of books onto them both. Then, slowly and inevitably, it toppled backwards into another bookcase, starting a slow cascade that caused chaos in the packed shop...

***

When order was finally restored - by Hagrid, since no one was about to argue with a half-giant - Lucius still had Ginny's book, and Arthur Weasley appeared to have all the injuries.

"Have your book back girl." Lucius snarled, ignoring Arthur Weasley as he held the battered book out to Ginny. "It's all your parents can afford." He added as she accepted it without noticing that it was slightly thicker than when she had first put it in her cauldron.

"Mr Malfoy..."

"Come Draco." Lucius ordered his son, completely ignoring Hagrid's attempt to talk to him. The two Malfoys swept from the bookshop, leaving the Weasleys to return home, where Arthur Weasley would lick his wounds, and Ginny would wonder who 'T.M. Riddle' was, and how they had dropped their diary into her cauldron...

***

It was done, Lucius reflected as he and Draco apparated away from Diagon Alley. Arthur Weasley, the muggle-loving fool, had completely snapped at the insult to the mudblood's family and his own. Of course, having fully intended for Weasley to attack him, Lucius had been more than adequately protected against anything _physical_ that Weasley senior might have done - as attested to by the fact that his only injury had come from a falling book.

"Father..." Draco hesitantly began as they appeared outside Malfoy Manor. "I don't understand - what was the point of goading Weasley's father into a fight in Flourish and Blotts?" Lucius raised an eyebrow - unseen by Draco - as he stepped into the house, apparently ignoring the tentative question. "Father?" Draco asked, a bit more firmly, knowing quite well that his question had been heard the first time.

"You didn't tell him then." Narcissa Malfoy, who had just walked into the entrance hall to greet them, raised one perfect eyebrow, and looked at Lucius in a silent question, simultaneously healing the bruising around her husband's eye.

"No." Lucius' expression was stern as he shook his head once in a firm negative. "And neither shall you." Narcissa's expression didn't change as she dipped her head slightly in acquiescence and understanding. "The last debacle was more than enough trouble, and I will not allow any heir of mine to disgrace this family _twice_..." Risking a brief glance at his father, cheeks flushed in shame, Draco immediately regretted it. He'd seen the very same expression directed at house elves that failed in their duties one too many times... Those that failed again, well, their heads _weren't_ on display in the servant's hall...

"Draco, dear, I'm sure you still have things in your room to pack for Hogwarts." His mother's tone was deceptively sweet, and Draco recognised the dismissal immediately. Somewhat regretful - in hindsight - of his actions during the summer, Draco went.

"He _will_ learn." Lucius muttered, watching his heir head up the stairs that led to Draco's rooms in the East wing. Narcissa snickered slightly and sidled up to her husband.

"Don't forget, he _is_ his father's son." Lucius' faint smile was wry as he looked at Narcissa, eyes shining with an amusement that few people knew he could feel, let alone show.

"Then perhaps," he said, sweeping her off her feet and into his arms, causing her to exclaim in surprise, "it's time we thought about a replacement." He finished, cutting any reply off by kissing her soundly as he apparated them both to their rooms in the North wing.

***

Dumbledore had finally, if only to himself, admitted that his weapon - or intended weapon - was gone. Quite _where_ the boy had gone, he wasn't sure, just as he wasn't entirely sure whether the boy was dead or not.

It was only tentative evidence that he had to suggest the boy might, somehow, be alive. But it was more evidence than he had to say that Harry Potter was dead and gone. Hogwarts had been around for nearly a thousand years, after all, and whilst it was 'just' a building, it was a magical one, and had absorbed minute amounts of magic from all those to grace its halls in that time. So, the fact that it was, quite stubbornly, insisting that there should be another Gryffindor student present - and where else would his chosen weapon have gone? Slytherin? - and had been since last year, the very year that Harry Potter _should_ have begun attending, was enough to cause him to doubt that the boy had either died or been killed.

At least he could be certain that none of Voldemort's followers had gotten their hands on him. If they had - or did - an example would have been made, gruesome without a doubt, and almost certainly designed for maximum public impact.

But if the boy was alive and well, then the only way his searches could have failed to find him was if something - or someone - was shielding the boy's magical signature.

He had discounted intervention by the Guardian of Clipstone forest after meeting it - a shabby, unkempt Raven that called itself 'Nevyn', and had clearly been utterly disinterested in wizards, except where they infringed upon its domain.

That, disturbingly, left a third party intervention. A third party whom Albus Dumbledore hadn't wished - and still didn't wish to - believe in, but was now forced to add into his calculations. They were an unwanted, unknown factor, and worst of all, he suspected they were members of his 'private army', the Order of the Phoenix.

With his epiphany as to the fate of his intended weapon, Dumbledore had been forced to recalculate portions of his plan. He had decided to abandon the idea of prophesy - too tenuous for his liking, although the desperate attempt of a mad-woman to get a job had served his purposes at the time. Now, however, he was going to train up a 'team' of savours instead.

The team would have to be creative, even unorthodox, highly knowledgeable and intelligent, brave, determined and cohesive - and he already knew who its members were going to be. Now all he had to do was put them through the same - if modified - tests that he had intended to put Harry Potter through...

Eyes twinkling, Dumbledore summoned a House Elf and gave it its orders. It would be most interesting to see how the three youngest Weasley sons made it to Hogwarts after missing the Express...

***

Severus Snape had not, on the whole, had the best of days. He also knew exactly who was to blame for this - the same person as ever, Albus Dumbledore.

It had started exactly the same as any other day in his 'home' at Hogwarts, which, in itself, was a reason to suspect things were going to rapidly get worse. He had known that Dumbledore was up to something, mainly because he was _always_ up to something, but the clearest indication that something specific was going on came a little after ten that morning, when, far from being asked, he had been _told_ to await the late arrival of the three youngest Weasley boys during the sorting feast that evening.

The subsequent absence of the three Weasley brothers from the Hogwarts Express had not gone unnoticed by Snape, which had confirmed his suspicions that they were - however unwittingly - involved in whatever scheme the mad old fool of a Headmaster had concocted for that term.

Not being at the feast, however, had its bonuses. He didn't have to watch as Minerva naively sorted children who knew no better into Dumbledore's brain-washing system. Neither did he have to listen to Dumbledore's 'I'm everyone's best friend' speech. On the other hand there was no one at the head table to show solid support for the new Slytherins, although he had no doubts that the older members of the house would close ranks about them quite rapidly.

But not being at the feast had also given him the rare opportunity to read the Evening Prophet - normally intercepted by Dumbledore in a somewhat futile attempt to keep him unaware of events in the wider world outside Hogwarts - which had contained a rather interesting article on a series of muggle sightings of a flying car. Interesting because, if one knew one's geography, the sightings all fell too close to the route of the Hogwarts Express for it to be coincidence.

Therefore, when he heard the Hogwarts wards shrill an alarm about a breach of the eastern wards by an enchanted object travelling at around 50 miles per hour, he was unsurprised. Knowing - as most people did - of Arthur Weasley's penchant for all things muggle, knowing that both Fred and George Weasley were involved, adding the Prophet's article, and Snape had already pretty much figured out _how_ the Weasleys would be arriving.

He knew roughly _when_ they would be arriving thanks to Dumbledore telling him when to await their arrival, and his suspicions about Dumbledore knowing that they wouldn't be on the Express - _before it left Kings Cross_ - meant that he had a good idea as to _why_ they were arriving, not necessarily in a flying car, but why they had not arrived on the Hogwarts Express.

The crux of the matter was whether Dumbledore's much-lauded 'prophecy' was a true prophecy or not. He didn't know all the details of the prophecy itself - although he had heard and reported at least the first part - but what he _had_ heard, had, to him, sounded like a true prophecy. Dumbledore, however, was egocentric enough to have arbitrarily decided to use the contents of the prophecy - and the fact that there had been a prophecy - to achieve his own ends.

That fitted with Lily Potter's sudden pregnancy, which he knew for a fact hadn't been planned...by the Potters at least.

Distracted by the turn his thoughts had taken, Snape was completely oblivious to the drama taking place across the grounds from where he had paused. Not even the panicked cries of the Weasleys, or the sound of the Whomping Willow - into which the flying car had crashed - smashing its branches repeatedly into a metal object registered.

But if Harry Potter _had_ been a result of Dumbledore manipulating events to fit a false prophecy, then somehow Dumbledore had also found a way to at least partially block the most powerful of the unforgivable curses. Which didn't make sense, because he also knew that Dumbledore believed the Dark Lord had mis-cast the spell.

Snape frowned in concentration, staring at but not seeing the battered Ford Anglia escaping into the Forbidden Forest.

So there was a prophecy, which might or might not have been true. There was the 'saviour' of the prophecy - Harry Potter - who certainly hadn't been expected by either of his parents. There was the fact that Harry Potter _had_ survived a killing curse cast by the Dark Lord - something Dumbledore wasn't gloating over either in public or private, and therefore hadn't had anything to do with. And there were his growing suspicions that Dumbledore was grooming the three Weasley sons - who were now dragging their luggage in the direction of Hogwart's main entrance - and possibly others, to fight directly against the Dark Lord.

Taken together, all the evidence seemed, to Snape, to point to one very happy - for him - conclusion. The prophecy had been real, Dumbledore's - there was no one else who could have had an interest in doing such a thing - ensuring Harry Potter's birth had simply made it self-fulfilling. Proof that the prophecy was true was in the simple fact that the Dark Lord would _never_ have mis-cast a simple killing curse, and yet Harry Potter had not only survived it, but somehow turned it back on its caster.

And if the prophecy were real, then unless the rest of the prophecy had included Harry Potter's disappearance - which Dumbledore had been too rattled by for it to have been predicted - then the only person capable of defeating the Dark Lord had been lost. Well, lost to Dumbledore at least...

It was at this point that Ron tripped over a rock, landing heavily and with an ominous snapping sound. But what caught Snape's attention was the loud and heartfelt curse as the red-head picked himself up off the floor. Ron Weasley had, it seemed, managed to snap his wand about a fifth of the way down its length, and was understandably upset.

Sniggering - he knew from conversations with Ollivander that Unicorn tail hair in light woods such as Ash and Willow, when broken, caused most spells cast with it to rebound onto the caster - Snape went to try and scare some respect for the rules into the three Weasleys.

***

Minerva McGonagall wasn't entirely sure what to make of the events surrounding the start of the new Hogwarts year. The headmaster had spoken with her a few days earlier, and had off-handedly mentioned that, whilst reluctant to believe that Harry Potter was, indeed, lost to them - especially with Hogwarts still behaving as though she were missing a Gryffindor student - he was going to start taking steps to ensure that Voldemort's return would not be an easy one.

She hadn't quite understood him, until he had asked her to recommend four Gryffindors capable of working together as a team, who would also be capable of both following mission plans, and making their own mission plans independently once given an objective and deadline. Even then, his intentions hadn't truly sunk in until she had already blurted out the names that had immediately sprung to mind.

Now...well, certainly her choice of the Weasley twins had been vindicated by the stunt with the car - objective, make it to Hogwarts, deadline, midnight - but as well as demonstrating ingenuity and adaptability, it had also demonstrated a lack of consideration of the wider consequences of their actions. But Albus had asked that she not go _too_ hard on them, and he always had his reasons, however convoluted or concealed they might be.

So, if Severus hadn't managed to terrify them with the potential consequences for their father - it didn't take a genius to figure out who'd actually enchanted the car - then she would put the fear of Morgana, and expulsion, into them, and with any luck they might also come away with a little more caution...

She wasn't going to hold her breath in anticipation of the last though.

***

Albus Dumbledore was exceedingly pleased with the way events were turning out. He'd been worried that, without being able to influence the upbringing of a new candidate, he would be unable to find a suitably controllable replacement 'saviour'. But Ronald Weasley was the perfect replacement; his anger was as easily provoked as it was directed, his parents were both under Dumbledore's thumb, and with the right combination backing him up...

That was where his twin brothers came in. Fred and George - or Gred and Forge as they liked to tease their mother - had all the makings of powerful wizards in their own right, but together... Well, the phenomenon that was the Weasley twins had never been fully explained or, Dumbledore suspected, explored.

The two worked together so seamlessly, even to the extent of finishing one another's sentences, that, were it not for the fact that they were twin brothers, he might have suspected a soul bond between the two. As it was, he had concluded that, as with many things the muggle and wizarding worlds seemed to share, 'identical' twins had a slightly deeper and more literal meaning for wizards.

The innovation of the Weasley twins - in the form of their pranks around Hogwarts - was as well known as their almost Slytherin cunning in planning, executing and providing themselves with alibis for said pranks. They would be Ron Weasley's explosives experts and flankers - both clearing a route to his target and protecting his back.

Hermione Granger, whilst not especially powerful, was a good all-rounder with the ability to research in and around a subject quickly, whilst retaining every scrap of information - no matter how seemingly insignificant - in her memory. She also had the patience and resourcefulness to act in several behind-the-scenes capacities, intelligence, potions mistress and researcher for example. Her temperament would also be the perfect foil to Ronald Weasley's; rational and smooth where he tended to be impulsive and blunt. She would be the means by which he would direct the boy's anger, because for all her intelligence, she was as blind as everyone else.

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed as he considered exactly what his next move would be. The seeds of his plan for the year had already been planted - although he doubted that Snape had realised it yet, and probably wouldn't until just before the next major move was made - and really, all he had to do was monitor events so that they didn't get out of hand. That would be easy enough - there were no external factors this time, Voldemort's spirit having been banished again, however temporarily, at the end of the previous year.

However, whilst this year was primarily to test the three Weasley boys, whom the Potions Master had undoubtedly realised were part of his plans, it would also serve the convenient secondary purpose of testing Hermione Granger. It would do so in a way that wouldn't be obvious, which was crucial if he was to keep Snape from realising that Granger was also involved in his plans. Whilst it was possible that Snape _might_ manage to arouse the suspicions of the Weasley twins - once he figured out what was going on himself, which would probably be very quickly when things began to swing into action - they were far less likely to read anything into it, and extremely unlikely to pursue independent lines of inquiry as a result. Granger on the other hand...

No, he would 'ignore' Granger - her own curiosity would be enough to drive her to research and analyse the occurrences and facts, and if she managed to discern the 'cause' or, and it was not an impossibility, the real culprit, then he would consider her to have 'passed' the 'test'. It would be a moot point, however, if Snape recognised the threat Granger posed and decided to remove it, even temporarily...

Well, that scenario could be dealt with when, if, it occurred. But first he had to ensure that the three Weasleys escaped relatively unscathed from the horror that was Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape united in anger...

***

Fred and George Weasley weren't sure what had happened the day before; it had all seemed like some fantastic dream when they had woken that morning; the panic of packing and rushing to Kings Cross station - conveniently taking the car; the shock and horror of realising the barrier between the muggle platforms and the wizarding platform had sealed before they passed through; the thrills and spills of an aerial car journey that ended with them crashing into the Whomping Willow; the terror as both McGonagall and Snape had mercilessly chewed them out, all the time hinting that they would be lucky _only_ to be expelled; the numbing sense of relief as Dumbledore 'rescued' them; and finally the adulation of the entire Gryffindor Tower.

Of course, they were used to fleeting fame from their pranks around the school, but Ron, further down the table, had a slightly bemused expression on his face.

The bemused expression became one of sheer terror as the post arrived, and with it three owls each bearing a crimson letter. The twins, when their howlers hit the table, at first looked concerned - after surviving both McGonagall and Snape at once their mother's wrath had paled somewhat - and then slowly their expressions turned mischievous as they saw Ron also receive a howler...

Seconds later and everyone in the Great Hall was stuffing their fingers in their ears as the scolding voice of Molly Weasley rent the air. But as ears adjusted to the volume, people started to notice a strange echoing effect to the telling off...

It wasn't until the last echo died away, and Fred and George Weasley stood and bowed, that everyone realised what had happened. By opening their howlers one after another, just after Ron had opened his, the twins had turned the event into a farce, with their howlers screaming a counter-point echo to their brother's howler.

That, however, was to be the very last of the matter, and the events of September first were quickly forgotten as the Hogwarts term began in earnest.

***

Halloween, and with it the Halloween feast, was soon upon them. All too soon for Draco, who still hadn't a clue - or at least, not much of one - as to what his father's plans were. He knew they involved the Weasleys, but whether it was the Weasel's father, the Weasel himself, the elder Weasley brothers, or even the Weaselette, he didn't know.

Thus it was, that, when Ron and Hermione slipped out of the feast a few minutes before it was due to end, Draco paid not the slightest bit of attention...

***

That was, until he was near the front of the crowds heading back to the main staircases - from where they would all go in different directions in order to reach their respective houses - that ground to a halt, seemingly with no reason.

Not really surprised by the disruption - a 'normal' day at Hogwarts wasn't, after all, 'normal' until something 'strange' had happened - Draco's mind, which had, on a subconscious level, noticed Hermione and Ron leave early from the feast, suddenly put two and two together as a low gasp split the unearthly silence.

Managing to alternately wriggle and shove his way to the front of the staring students, Draco felt his lips curve into a grin. Giant red words had apparently been daubed onto the wall, and a _very_ familiar cat was hanging stiffly from a torch bracket, apparently dead.

"Enemies of the heir, beware!" Draco read off the wall, face flushed from the exertion of getting to the front of the crowd. His grin turned malicious as his glance slid to Hermione. "You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

Ron Weasley's face flushed a red to shame his hair, but Granger, to Draco's disappointment, didn't seem to know how much of an insult the taunt had been. It deflated the moment somewhat, since there was no point to an insult if the insulted party didn't know they'd been insulted.

More entertainment, however, was not long in arriving, bizarrely in the form of Argus Filch, who instantly began wailing over the stiff form of Mrs Norris and then switched, mid wail, to screaming threats of retribution at the two culprits'...

***

It was this scene that Snape - having heard Draco's taunt - arrived at, just as, from the other direction, Dumbledore also appeared.

"Come with me, Argus." Dumbledore ordered Filch. "You too, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger." He added, retrieving Mrs Norris from the torch bracket. Snape didn't miss the approving twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes as Dumbledore glanced at him. Things were suddenly making a horrible kind of sense...

Despite not having been told to go along, Snape followed Dumbledore and the others as they went to Gilderoy Lockhart's - that year's incompetent Defence Against the Dark Arts professor - office. He was aware of Minerva McGonagall also following along behind, and wondered briefly just who was supposed to ensure that the students continued on their way to their dormitories. In all honesty, however, he didn't really care, because his mind was racing as it pieced together all the little bits of information it had been gathering from the start of the school year.

***

As Dumbledore and McGonagall peered at the cat, Snape, standing in the shadows behind them, went over what he knew.

He knew that Dumbledore had chosen at least the three youngest Weasley sons to replace his lost saviour, Harry Potter, and he could speculate that the headmaster was now 'testing' them to confirm their suitability, and to mentally condition them for whatever scheme he had in mind. This was borne out by the story the three had told about the barrier at Kings Cross refusing to let them through.

He also knew that Dumbledore had been, once again, manipulating the Imperius curse upon him - already twisted and distorted so far from its original purpose that he suspected it could be argued as technically no longer being an Imperius curse at all, and thus not being illegal. He knew this because he had, three days earlier, found six vials of Vita Mora potion on his desk. That was enough to affect six full-grown people, never mind anything smaller...

Six vials of an incredibly complex and dangerous potion - not to mention Dark and illegal - neatly labelled in what was unmistakably _his_ hand, but that he had no memory of making. There was no doubting, however, that the ingredients had come from his private stocks, since an inventory had revealed the exact amounts missing.

That the Imperius curse had been warped so far - to the point where it seemed able to also control his memories - was extremely worrying, and Snape had to hope that his inability to recall making the potions was due to an _obliviate_ spell rather than the curse itself.

Far worse - as far as the 'leash' was concerned - was the compulsion he had been feeling to use the potions. A compulsion that he had finally found the solution to that morning, by using the entire first dose on a rat down in the kitchens. It seemed that he hadn't been restricted to human victims...which was more likely to mean that there were still things the bond _couldn't_ be used to make him do, than to indicate an omission on the headmaster's part. Scant relief under the circumstances.

He had been at a loss, initially, to understand why the headmaster would want six doses of a potion that mimicked a basilisk's attack - to the point where it was indistinguishable; unless a Mandrake-based restorative was applied and failed to have any effect. Now, however, with the message on the wall, it all made disturbing sense.

Even more disturbing, however, was the fact that he _hadn't_ petrified Mrs Norris - which was clearly the impression Dumbledore was under. That could mean only one thing...

***

The Hogwarts motto, Minerva McGonagall was now sure, should not have been 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon', but rather 'Expect the unexpected'. Certainly, on hearing the commotion in the halls and coming to investigate, she had not expected to find a petrified cat and a message seemingly written in blood.

Nor had she expected to hear Albus Dumbledore pronounce such grim news - that only magic of the darkest kind could have been responsible - whilst twinkling surreptitiously at Severus Snape.

Something was definitely going on...

***

"...Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep..." Lockhart's words snapped Severus out of his reflective musing faster than a Dementor's chill aura, pertaining as they did to the subject of his beloved potions.

"Excuse me." He cut in, voice icy, pinning Lockhart with a glare that could have halted a charging dragon in its tracks. "But I believe _I_ am the Potions Master at this school." There was a very awkward pause. Snape wondered who had tried to teach Lockhart potions at school; he pitied them. 'Mandrake Restorative Draught' indeed. For a true Basilisk attack the required potion was the Corpo Renovita potion, and the potion the headmaster would be expecting him to make, to counter the Vita Mora potion, was the Vita Renovita potion.

***

She wasn't certain, but her suspicions were more than enough for Ginny, an avid cat-lover, to be wracked with guilt over the petrification of Mrs Norris. There were just too many coincidences; a whole hour of the Halloween Feast that she couldn't remember at all, cobwebs and dust that hadn't been on her costume to start with, bruises and scrapes that she couldn't work out how she had come by and, most telling of all, a few petrified cat hairs clinging to her costume.

Yes, Ginny was pretty certain that she had been the one to petrify Mrs Norris, hang her from a torch bracket, and write the chilling message indelibly on the corridor wall.

Confused and uncertain, Ginny, as she was doing more and more often, turned to her only friend; the battered black diary of 'T.M. Riddle'...

Checking that no one else was in the dorm, Ginny cautiously opened the diary, nibbled on the end of her quill, then quickly dipped the nib into her ink and scribbled hastily onto the paper.

'I...I think it was me that petrified Mrs Norris - but why would I do something like that? And why can't I remember it!'

The ink sank quickly into the page, spat back moments later as a series of blobs that swam slowly into letters and words.

'You did it for me, love. So that I can break free of this cruel prison.'

'But...how does killing Mrs Norris and writing that message help?'

A frown creased Ginny's face as she waited impatiently for the answer.

'Mrs Norris isn't dead; Snape will cure her just as soon as Sprout's Mandrakes are grown. She is a warning, just as the message is - I don't think my captors should get away with what they did to me, but I'm giving them more than a chance to set me free and at least partially redress the situation.'

Ginny supposed that made sense, as well as being a lot fairer than she thought she would have been after five decades trapped within a book. A sudden thought dawned on her.

'Then...will there be...others?'

'Yes, there must, unless you wish me to remain trapped here for who knows how long... You wouldn't wish that on me...would you?'

'No! No, of course not...but still...'

She shook her head vehemently as the quill nib jumped and scratched the words hastily onto the page.

'Hush, it will all be right in the end, I promise. Say you'll still help me?'

There was a long pause, Ginny absently chewing and worrying at the end of her quill as she debated. She couldn't, in good conscience, abandon Tom to another eternity within a book, but then, she wasn't entirely sure that she could trust him. Mrs Norris _was_ only petrified though, and Dumbledore himself had said that it was only temporary until the Mandrakes were grown...

'I...alright...'

"Are you coming already?"

Ginny hastily snapped the diary shut, cramming it under her pillow and placing a couple of wards over her bed that Tom had taught her.

"Yeah!" She called ahead of herself as she hurried down the dormitory stairs to the common room. She would, she decided, trust Tom until she had proof that he couldn't be trusted.

***

Severus Snape had expected Minerva McGonagall to, in her usual blunt manner, corner and question him as soon as they were out of the headmaster's view. But she hadn't and, after a week in which she had behaved perfectly normally towards him, he had begun to wonder if he was being slightly too paranoid.

He didn't relax of course - for a start _he_ knew there really _was_ a basilisk on the loose, not just the rumour of one. Not that the students had worked that much out yet - except the Slytherins, who mostly knew of the legend of the Chamber from their parents. But if he hadn't relaxed, he had at least stopped expecting her to step out from behind a tapestry whenever he was, apparently, alone in a corridor.

Of course, that was the point she chose to finally strike...

***

"Severus, might I have a minute of your time." It was perfectly phrased and spoken - Dumbledore couldn't have done better. A question that was neither question nor request but statement - she _would_ have a minute of his time; this minute in fact.

"It appears so." He responded, resigned to the fact that this talk would take place after all, although his mind was already whirling as he tried to think of a way in which he might be able to tarnish her shining image of Albus Dumbledore. It would not be easy though, since she was bound to report every word of their conversation back to the Headmaster, and when it came right down to it, not only was Dumbledore placed higher in her esteem, but Snape knew, should he feel threatened enough, the man was more than capable of inflicting the same spell on his 'trusted deputy' as he had cast on his 'pet Death Eater'.

***

McGonagall arched an eyebrow at her younger colleague's tone - one she had only ever heard from him when Albus had persuaded him to do something the potions master did not wish to do. Clearly he was reluctant to talk to her, but why? She was quite aware that, had he wished to conceal it from her, Albus would not have allowed her to see the expression he had directed at Severus. An expression that screamed 'co-conspirators' - at least as far as her experiences with the Marauders and the Weasley twins went.

"Perhaps your office might be more private?" She prompted, as Severus still seemed lost in his thoughts. He looked at her sharply, then gave a brisk nod of agreement before turning on his heel, robes snapping dramatically about his ankles, and striding away.

Minerva hurried after the rapidly-moving man, following blindly as he led her through several corridors and down a staircase she could have sworn she'd never seen before - and she knew almost as much about Hogwarts as the headmaster...

***

"Are you quite well Severus?" Minerva queried, eyeing the potions master with a somewhat worried expression. He was behaving quite paranoidly, even for him, warding the room with several spells that even _she_ didn't recognise, in addition to the ones that she did.

"Perfectly." He ground out, looking as though he meant the exact opposite. She decided to let the matter slide; Poppy was the Medi-Witch of Hogwarts after all, and if she got sidetracked into trying to discern what had rattled Severus' cage this time she definitely wouldn't get an answer to her questions before she had to leave for her afternoon classes.

"Well, in that case - what are you and Albus up to?" Snape didn't blink in surprise at the question; not that she had expected him to. "I know _something's_ going on." She added. Severus, most uncharacteristically, shrugged and turned away, almost as if he wasn't going to answer at all, before suddenly turning back around to face her, fixing her with the piercing gaze she had seen reduce even third-years to tears.

"What do you know about the Chamber of Secrets?" Minerva couldn't bite back her groan of irritation.

"That the stunt with Mrs Norris and the message - that I assume was part of whatever scheme Albus has you involved in - has had every class pestering all the Professors for more information." Snape's amused snort confirmed her suspicion that said classes were far too scared by their Potions Master to pester _him_. "Other than that, only what everyone else knows; it was created by Salazar Slytherin just before he left, but has never been found." Snape's expression as she spoke was far too knowing. Despite being his senior by several decades Minerva found herself struggling not to squirm or fidget uncomfortably. "That and it was opened fifty years ago, resulting in the death of a student..." The soft admission slipped out before she could censor her words.

"Oh?" The word was breathed so softly she thought she might have imagined it, but when she looked Severus' expression was one that could only be called calculating. It was as if he had been given another piece of a puzzle and was turning it this way and that in his mind, examining it against all the other pieces in an effort to see where exactly it fitted, and what it implied for the overall picture...

"But what I want to know is what, exactly, the purpose of that disgusting prank is." She was disheartened, aware of her time rapidly running out, to see the Potions Master's expression become its usual blank mask. She had - not unusually for a conversation with the dour man - given far more information than she had received in return. After a moment, however, Severus slowly raised an eyebrow.

"You think _I_ know?" McGonagall glared at him, wishing that her glares were as effective on him as his were on her.

"I saw the glances Albus kept giving you. I've known enough pranksters in my time to know those looks well enough." Not for the first time, Severus mentally cursed both the Headmaster and McGonagall's highly selective powers of observation.

"Perhaps," he sneered, quite aware that time was on his side as far as afternoon classes were concerned, "he was subtly trying to hint to you that I am actually a loyal death eater and have him under _imperio_, my intention being to decimate the population of Hogwarts one by one?" There was a pause, and then McGonagall exploded.

"Severus! You know I have _never_ held the mistakes of your past against you!" He couldn't help but be inwardly amused by her vehement defence. If only she knew, he thought, letting her ramble on about how his very arrival at the scene was an alibi. Finally the tirade came to an end - an abrupt one as the clock on his office wall chimed the hour. "Oh!" Minerva yelped, eyes widening slightly before she returned to her normal stern expression. "I'll be taking this up with Albus; I'm sure he'll be more forthcoming."

A flick of his wand saw the door unlock, and Professor McGonagall bustled away. Only after he had shut the door and locked it again did Severus allow any hint of his amusement show through. More forthcoming indeed, the Headmaster? If she had been that certain she would have gone straight to Dumbledore, not attempted to prise the information from him. Not that he had any information for her to prise out; unless you counted the fact that the Headmaster wanted him mimicking Basilisk attacks in the school.

The compulsion hit him then, unexpected and most definitely unwelcome. It had only been a week; was it going to all be over in two months, or was he just going to go through this randomly? No...he shook his head, a mental disagreement with his thoughts as well as a physical denial of the compulsion that seemed so much more severe than the first. It had to be a set of 'pseudo random' compulsion commands that had been embedded into the _imperio_ leashing him.

Staggering slightly, Severus stepped through the wall behind his desk and into his private laboratory, snagging the second vial of Vita Mora potion as he walked straight across and through another wall into a long-disused storage room in the dungeons. Broken crates buried under thick layers of dust and cobwebs were the only things inside the room. Locating an occupied web - quite what the spiders he wasn't sure he wanted to know - he hurriedly opened the vial and emptied the contents onto the hapless arachnid.

The web trembled as droplets of the potion cascaded down to plop harmlessly into the thick dust that covered the crates below. The spider, rigid in its petrified state, began to crumble as the excess potion took effect, shards splintering away to follow the potion into the dust. Snape neither saw nor cared, instead returning to his private laboratory to replace the now-empty vial, and then gratefully heading to his private quarters. If the compulsion _wasn't_ random, then he could expect the headmaster to start asking questions in the next day or so when no 'Basilisk' victim was forthcoming. Of course, that was along with the questions that were bound to be asked once McGonagall had spoken to him of their talk.

Sighing heavily, wondering who the hell he'd pissed off in a previous life to warrant _this_ much ill fortune, Snape gratefully sank onto his bed. There was marking to do, but it could wait for once; maybe the world would end overnight...

***

It had been, as such things went, not a bad day. Not a good day - no, Severus Snape hadn't had a _good_ day since the fall of the Dark Lord - but not a bad day nonetheless. His classes, of which there had been two, had been spectacularly barren of exploding cauldrons, and whilst the world hadn't ended, neither had Dumbledore 'invited' him up to his office. In fact, Snape was almost tempted to relax and lower his guard.

He didn't relax, however, because he was all too used to the absolute horror that tended to occur immediately after such calm periods; the Universe making up for its momentary lapse in it's job of making his life hell.

Thus, of all the staff - with the obvious exception of Albus Dumbledore - he was the least surprised, yet most confused, when Esmeralda Lloyd was discovered, petrified, just outside the Hospital Wing.

Having heard the news, Snape found himself wondering if there was a connection between his compulsions and the attacks after all. But there was no way he could be responsible for the attacks...was there? He had, grudgingly, to admit that, should Dumbledore really wish to, he could probably manufacture such an unlikely scenario. But it seemed most unlikely; who, after all, was Snape going to be able to convince of anything that painted Dumbledore in anything but a good light? No, he decided, the first attack and compulsion had been an accidental occurrence. The second...coincidence, surely. But if there _was_ a third attack, and if it _did_ coincide once more with the compulsion...then he would no longer be able to deny that _something_ linked the two.

***

Albus Dumbledore was both impressed and suspicious of his puppet. Severus Snape had, it seemed, given in to the temptation of being able to exercise his darker side, wholeheartedly embracing the charade of the Chamber of Secrets. The message on the wall, for which he had yet to determine how it had been daubed in place, had been perfect for igniting the first rumours and theories. Even the attack was perfect; Mrs Norris could no longer spy, Filch was so distraught that he was blind to everything else going on, and the water on the ground was the perfect alibi as to why the cat was only petrified and not dead.

In fact, the first attack had been so suspiciously perfect that, had he not known just how cunning the Potions Master was, and that the Chamber of Secrets didn't really exist, he too might have been deluded into thinking that it existed somewhere in the castle.

Minerva had reacted as expected having been given the hugely obvious hint that Severus was involved, and the Potions Master had earned the faintest sliver of respect for the way in which he had adroitly dodged her questions and managed to extract what little Minerva knew - or thought she knew - about the Chamber of Secrets. Not that Snape had told him about it, but Minerva had in her demands to him that she wanted to know what they were doing and why.

The headmaster chuckled darkly to himself. She was now under the impression - false of course - that no one knew what was going on at all. It hadn't, strictly speaking, been necessary to mislead her, but the manipulations had been both psychological and magical, tying her loyalties to him with yet another unbreakable bond.

Glancing at the calendar he sighed somewhat regretfully. After two petrifications so close together it was time for a break, to let people either relax or wind themselves even tighter in expectation of the next attack. He would give it a month or so and then...well, it would be a dual attack so that people would not forget before the last attacks...

Yes, he mused, it was all going to plan...

***

Severus Snape had twitched his way through November and the start of December, expecting at every moment to hear the Headmaster's voice summoning him for 'tea'. The summons, however, had never come, although the evil gleam had seemed to hint that it was imminent.

As a result of his sentiment that something was certain to happen, Snape had taken to almost obsessively inventorying his potions stocks, even going so far as to check them before and after any detentions. Of course, his paranoia in this respect paid off, and he knew within an hour of it being taken that he was short a boomslang skin. He also knew that boomslang skin was most likely being used in a polyjuice potion, and that, if it had been stolen just prior to it being needed, then it could be used by Christmas.

It was neither hard to determine the culprits - it could only have gone missing in the fourth year Gryffindor/Slytherin class, containing none other than the infamous Weasley twins - nor the motive. Indeed, it had only been a matter of time until someone thought to use polyjuice potion, although there were precious few students he thought would be able to brew it correctly. One of those, however, was Hermione Granger, who could be linked to the twins through their brother, Ronald, and the fact that they were in the same house. Of course, this had to be the youngest Weasley male's idea, as the twins were unlikely to be concerned about the attacks - unless or until a relative was involved - and Granger herself was too concerned with the rules.

Still, even if he was wrong, and the polyjuice _wasn't_ to allow someone to infiltrate Slytherin House in search of the Heir of Slytherin, it wouldn't hurt to give his students a general heads-up; Draco in particular would need warning as his two lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle, were the most obvious targets...

***

Barely a week after his warning about the polyjuice Snape discovered the next trick up the Headmaster's 'benevolent' sleeves. The compulsion struck, deceptively mild to start with, growing with intensity and barely tempered by the demise of another spider to the Vita Mora potion. It hadn't been until, praying he was right in his suspicions, he'd used another of the potions, that the burning urge had faded away completely, leaving him drained and shaken.

But, much to his surprise and confusion, the school had made it to the end of lessons without any further petrifications being reported.

Highly suspicious of this, he decided to loiter around Dumbledore's office and see what titbits of information the headmaster would throw his way. He had no illusions that the other man wouldn't know he was there - he knew exactly where his puppet was at all times thanks to the 'leash'. However, he also knew that Dumbledore's ego, whilst recognising that he was highly intelligent, couldn't credit him with cunning greater than the headmaster himself, and would therefore always underestimate him...

An evil smirk on his face, Severus swept through the corridors, students parting unseen before him.

***

His decision paid off, even if it was simply in confirming his knowledge that Albus Dumbledore would ignore or twist anything that didn't fit his view until it did.

It seemed that Hagrid had found _another_ dead rooster - an obvious sign to anyone who knew there had been petrification attacks that a Basilisk was likely to be involved. Of course, not at all to Severus' surprise, Dumbledore had gravely thanked Hagrid and played along with the half-giant's adamant protestations that there had to be a Basilisk running around Hogwarts - under the control of someone who was killing the only thing that could threaten such a creature.

After the gamekeeper had left, however, Dumbledore had all too loudly chortled his appreciation that his potions master was getting so into the charade.

Amazed yet again by the headmaster who - and he had no qualms about admitting it - was blindingly brilliant, and yet so inanely stupid at the same time, Severus waited until Hagrid had left the area, and then headed back towards the dungeons...only to groan quietly in dismay as, striding down one of the corridors, he came across the petrified forms of a student - Justin Finch-Fetchly, a Hufflepuff if he remembered correctly - and the Gryffindor ghost, Nearly-Headless Nick.

He was still standing there, contemplating that his compulsions and the petrifications _had_ to be linked in some way, when Filch appeared...

***

Dumbledore was impressed. Not only had Severus daubed the fear-inspiring message on the wall for the first attack, but now it seemed he had also been killing the roosters; anyone searching for the culprit - as he knew Hermione Granger was - wouldn't dream that it was really the doing of a potion and not a Basilisk. Well, a Slytherin might, but Granger was a Gryffindor, and she wouldn't dream of accusing a teacher...

***

Minerva McGonagall knew something wasn't right. It wasn't anything she could put her finger on - which irked her in its own way - rather a nebulous feeling that there was something she had forgotten...something to do with the attacks and the Chamber of Secrets...

Normally when faced with such a predicament she would have gone straight to Albus, and yet, for some reason, whenever she thought of taking the matter to him she was filled with a sense of foreboding that sent chills down her spine. There was no one else she could, or would, ordinarily talk to, especially about matters of such delicacy, but perhaps, having already spoken to Severus of the Chamber, and knowing the way the younger man felt towards Albus after the Headmaster had saved him from a spell in Azkaban, she could talk to him about this...?

***

He was getting tired of not knowing what was going on, for it was quite obvious that something was going on at Hogwarts. After all, even for a magical school, a series of petrification attacks and irremovable bloody messages couldn't be called normal.

The worst of it was, he had a hunch that it all had _something_ to do with his father - and the incident with the Weasels in Flourish and Blotts.

And on top of that, even the purebloods were skittish and nervous after the petrification of Esmeralda Lloyd, a pureblood in Ravenclaw. Apparently she had been on the way to the Hospital Wing to have a nasty boil hex removed from her arm after getting between a fourth year and the first year he was trying to bully. But being a Ravenclaw, everyone knew she would have been cautious - maybe not as paranoid as a Slytherin, but still... And that meant her small circle of friends had instantly shot to the top of the 'suspected Heir' list. After all, wouldn't it be just like a Ravenclaw to ferret out the details of the Chamber?

Of course, Slytherin House had gone on the defensive as soon as the first attack had taken place and Dumbledore had declared that it was the result of Dark magic; anything Dark and Slytherin was always automatically implicated by the rest of the world. But Draco was especially alert today, the whole House having been warned by Snape that it was possible someone was going to attempt to polyjuice themselves and infiltrate Slytherin House itself. Fortunately there were only two people who were likely to provide any opportunistic Gryffindors - neither the Ravenclaws nor the Hufflepuffs were daring enough to try the stunt - with the blatant opportunity to drug them and thus safely impersonate them. Crabbe and Goyle.

That was why, instead of retiring to bed early, as he had planned, Draco Malfoy was reclined on a sofa watching the flames in the fireplace and trying to think who the real Heir was.

It was possible, but highly unlikely, that they could be a Gryffindor - where better, after all, to hide, than in the ranks of the enemy - but that would also cut them off from their best source of allies. Hufflepuff was another house that he didn't think would really suit the Heir. Loyalty was all well and good, especially since they never thought to define what or whom that loyalty was to, but again, Hufflepuff was too staid and, well, _yellow_ for a true Slytherin. Which meant the Heir was either in Ravenclaw, Slytherin, one of the teachers, or not in Hogwarts at all.

Draco snorted aloud, not really believing that the Heir would be a Ravenclaw, and dismissing the idea of it being a teacher. About all he knew for certain at the moment, despite his unusually discrete attempts to pry information from both his father, the other Slytherins, and his Head of House, Severus Snape, was that he _wasn't_ the Heir of Slytherin; and if it had been someone else in Slytherin they would have made themselves known by now. In fact, every indication pointed to the Heir not actually being in Hogwarts, which made Draco wonder how the hell the Heir was responsible for the attacks.

***

It was only just before curfew when Crabbe and Goyle made their entrance into the common room, following a third year whose briefly raised eyebrow and over-loud mutter about 'imbecilic baboons who couldn't even memorise the way back to the dorms they'd been sleeping in for over a year'. The warning was clear; although the third year didn't know Crabbe and Goyle well enough to say for certain that they were impostors, they hadn't exactly known where they were going within the Slytherin dungeons.

Draco hadn't exactly needed the warning, he _did_ know Crabbe and Goyle, having had them hovering around him through the previous year. Knowing their behaviours as he did, he _knew_ this wasn't the real Crabbe and Goyle, both through the cumulative little mismatches in stance and movement, but mainly through the glaring absence of as much food as they could carry from the feast in the Great Hall.

The impostors gave themselves away further as the three of them 'conversed', although Draco had to admit, had he not be forewarned to expect a polyjuice attempt, he might have fallen for the trick. It was the simplest of things that revealed the identity of the two impostors. The slightest slip with 'Crabbe' finishing 'Goyle's' sentence coupled with the expression that had flitted across their face as he badmouthed the Weasels.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Draco questioned, noticing the first signs of the polyjuice beginning to wear off. It took them barely seconds to catch on, with 'Goyle' grunting out that he didn't feel so good and instantly beginning to retreat out of the common room, 'Crabbe' close behind.

Of course, being who he was, Draco couldn't resist a parting shot.

"Try not to get caught by Filch, Weasleys." The two responded with an automatic chorus of 'we won't', realised what they had just done, and exchanged priceless looks of panic before fleeing as fast as their slowly-morphing bodies could go. Draco couldn't help it; he began laughing and didn't stop for a long time.

***

Gred and Forge had made a pact between them; they would not reveal their blunder with the polyjuice potion and Malfoy. They had considered whether it was likely he had known from the start, but although they suspected he had suspected from the beginning, they still didn't think he had been lying when he said that he wasn't the Heir and didn't know who was. If he _had_ been lying, they reasoned, he wouldn't have revealed that he knew they were not Crabbe and Goyle, and would probably have sent them off on a false trail; just for his own amusement.

Thus it was a comically dejected Gred and Forge who reported back to their younger brother that Malfoy was neither the Heir of Slytherin nor in possession of the knowledge of whom, exactly, the Heir was; meaning it was unlikely to be anyone in Slytherin. Unfortunately this incident put them back to square one, and this time without Hermione, who had managed to botch her potion most spectacularly and now partly resembled a cat.

With their suspicions having dissolved into nothing, there was little else they could do except wait for the next attack, as callous as that seemed. Sooner or later - they hoped the former - the Heir would slip and there would be a witness, or some sort of clue that would enable them to determine who it was...

***

January passed without incident, leading some to hope that the danger had gone, and others to fear that the next attack was becoming increasingly imminent. Ginny in particular seemed upset and moody, even snapping at Hermione when she asked what was wrong. Indeed, the lack of 'abnormal' occurrences seemed to herald February as a portentous month...

***

Snape didn't know why he'd found himself drawn to the second floor corridors at such an hour. Certainly he liked to vary his route as he stalked around the castle's darkened halls, but still, he rarely bothered with the floors above the first floor. Most of the classrooms in use were on the first floor or ground floor, and his own were in the dungeons, therefore, those three floors were the areas that promised the most mischief-making opportunities. Yet, for some unfathomable reason - which he didn't think was Dumbledore's imperio - here he was, on the second floor, staring contemplatively at the large red message still stubbornly clinging to the wall. Filch had tried everything to get rid of the words, but however it had been done - and even Snape wasn't sure about that, though he had his suspicions - it seemed that it wasn't going to be removed any time soon.

There was water in the corridor again, just as there had been that Halloween evening - not particularly surprising since the door just across from him was the haunted girl's toilet. Snape narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. Moaning Myrtle rarely flooded the toilets without provocation, and whilst it wasn't exactly difficult to upset the temperamental ghost, everyone avoided her for that precise reason. Which meant that... Snape blinked twice, eyes widening in surprise as, somewhere in the back of his mind, he finally identified the nebulous sensation that had drawn him to where he was.

"Lord...?" He whispered, more to himself than anyone else. Not that there was anyone else in the vicinity. There was, as he had expected, no response. But now that he had identified it, there was no mistaking the magical signature that he could sense emanating from...Moaning Myrtle's toilets?

Why, Snape wondered, could he sense Voldemort's unmistakable presence, in a girl's bathroom? A haunted one at that. Unless... His gaze switched from the 'out of order' notice on the door back to the message on the wall.

'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened'. Surely it couldn't be...and yet... He knew there was another entrance to the Chamber beside that which he knew of and used. The simplest way to check, of course, would have been to venture down and investigate...but he didn't need to do that. He knew the Chamber had been opened, the Basilisk roused and loosed on the unsuspecting inhabitants of Hogwarts, Filch's cat being petrified was enough evidence for him in that regard.

Still, even if the 'back' entrance to the Chamber _was_ in Moaning Myrtle's toilets, that didn't explain why he could sense Voldemort within the toilets themselves. For a moment he debated with himself, it could be awkward were anyone to see him either entering or leaving a girl's bathroom, haunted or not. On the other hand he was going to find it very hard to walk away from the addictive lure of Voldemort's power - even if it was just a fraction of what the man himself exuded.

Listening carefully to his surroundings, Snape decided that there was no one around. Quickly, mindful of the water lying on the floor, he strode across the corridor and slipped into the toilets.

***

Moaning Myrtle, as expected, shrieked in horror and dismay as she registered both his presence and the fact that he wasn't a girl. Snape, however, had no time for her histrionics, for he could sense the waves of the Dark Lord's power even more clearly now there wasn't a door between him and the source. Scanning the room, his eyes lit on a battered black book. Strangely, despite the rest of the room having a fine coating of water, the area immediately surrounding the book was dry. Snape wondered, as he cautiously reached out and touched the cover, prepared to react to anything at a moment's notice, if the paper had soaked up the water. The cover, however, was bone dry.

Nothing seemed to happen as he pressed his fingers more firmly against the book, and yet, somehow, Snape could sense an almost sentient feeling of anticipation coming from its closed pages. An enchanted book then. But was it merely a diary spelled to protect the secrets of its owner, or owners, or was there something more to it?

Gently he picked the book up, glad that Moaning Myrtle had given up on her screeching and had vanished somewhere into the plumbing to sulk. The cover felt warm to his cool hands, warm and dry, safe and comforting... His eyes narrowed, and almost casually he broke free of the spell. _That_ was an interesting spell to put on a diary, he mused, now even more convinced that it was not _just_ a diary. The leather cover was supple but not excessively battered, cared for but not used more than once or twice a week, depending on its age. He slipped it securely into an inner pocket in his robes.

With nothing else to distract him, Snape decided to look around the room. If it was, after all, the location of the second entrance into the Chamber, then it might be advantageous for him to know the exact location - even if he didn't know parseltongue, he could always force the entrance open in an emergency.

***

If his students thought Professor Snape especially hard on them that week, his comments more acerbic, more frequent than ever, well, that was Snape, and they thought little of it...

***

Sleep was abandoned that weekend, with the aid of several potions people were recommended _not_ to combine. The enigma of the diary - he was certain that was what it was despite the lack of entries - was simply too enticing to wait longer than a fortnight and the next chance he would have to examine it properly.

He had already, on the same night he had retrieved it, cautiously opened the diary at the beginning. The first page had been blank, but on the inside of the front cover had been a gold monogrammed name, 'T. M. Riddle'. Snape knew quite well who _that_ was, although he doubted that anyone else in Hogwarts did, with the possible exceptions of the rest of the staff and the ghosts.

Now, not really expecting to find anything else openly written, he quickly leafed through the pages of the diary. As he had expected, the other pages were, like the first page, as blank as the day the diary had been bound. Not that this dimmed his suspicions in any way. On the contrary, had he found anything written openly on the pages he would have instantly been doubly wary.

As it was, he had two theories, one of which he thought was a waste of time, but was far easier and safer to test out. Which is why he was going to test that theory first. He had little worry that Dumbledore would interfere - assuming that, as ever, he already knew both about the diary's existence and that his puppet now had it in his possession - and his quarters were shielded well enough that he would have enough warning should anyone else come poking around whilst he was busy.

Concentrating, narrowing his entire focus down to the diary and its magical aura, Snape began casting every legal revealing charm that he knew. Twice he stopped, sensing an uneasy ripple running through the magicks surrounding the book, but each time it settled again and he was able to continue. He was warier with the borderline legal spells, all too aware that if he cast the wrong one, or the diary had a violent reaction, Dumbledore would be knocking on his door - or simply coming through his _private_ floo - within a few minutes; his shielding was good, but Dumbledore had much more pure power at his disposal.

Fortunately, despite the diary setting up an almost constant rippling, nothing reacted violently enough break through his ward and set off the alarm wards that Snape knew Dumbledore had set up within his rooms - and the rest of the dungeons.

Nothing, as expected, had been revealed, and so Snape put his wand away, settled himself at the desk with the diary in front of him, picked up a quill, inked it, and carefully wrote on the first blank page of the diary.

'Hello'.

*#42;*

'Hello. How did you come by my diary?'

The words swam to the surface of the page, the ink bubbling up to form the letters. Having watched the ink of his own words vanish into the same page, Severus no longer needed to wonder at the circumstances he had found the diary in. No doubt it had simply absorbed the water that had been flooding the rest of the bathroom.

'I found it.'

His response was deliberately vague, indicating nothing except that which he had been asked, and then not in detail.

'Where?'

The response was too fast. Where he had found the diary seemed to be very important to it; did it have something to hide - information about the girl's bathroom perhaps? Snape mentally added another support factor to his theory that there was something important in that particular bathroom. His search had only revealed a tap decorated with a snake insignia; a tap that didn't work, which suggested that it might not actually be connected to Hogwart's plumbing system.

'Quid pro quo - why are you so interested in where I found you?'

His eyes narrowed, quill tip scratching harshly over the parchment as he wrote the question. So far the responses had been typically Slytherin in nature, leading him to believe that perhaps the Dark Lord had preserved a memory of himself within the diary, probably whilst he had still been at Hogwarts. The real question was, why would he do such a thing?

'You are a Slytherin.'

The words swam slowly to the surface of the page and paused there for a long moment, as though the diary were waiting for a fierce rebuttal of its assumption. Snape waited, wondering what it would do if it received no answer. After a minute the words faded, more words rising to take their place.

'Don't care to answer? Enough of an answer in itself. Are you an advocate of all that Slytherin stands for?'

Snape stared at the words that formed, the real question being asked painfully obvious. But how to wriggle around Dumbledore's annoying restrictions and still answer in a way that the young Dark Lord would understand?

'I find myself trapped in a beehive with a powerful old drone, leaving little room for my true self.'

He paused thoughtfully as the sentence sank in, and then, just to help clarify his meaning, added a single word.

'Lord.'

***

Things had gone a lot more smoothly once Snape and the diary had managed to pass the first critical barrier, that of tentative trust. It helped that Snape had managed to indirectly indicate that he was being controlled by Dumbledore, and therefore didn't _want_ to know anything that he might have to report.

Thus they talked of 'inconsequential' things. Things such as the political goings on of late that students rarely paid heed to. They spoke of the current Wizengamot and heads of Governmental departments, with 'Tom' noting, when Amelia Bones was mentioned as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, that women - and even girls - could be most useful at times. They spoke of the differences between purebloods and halfbloods, and the fact that purebloods did seem to breed true, just like red hair in wizarding families. They even spoke of the legend of the Chamber of Secrets and how a parsel-mouth might do well to ignore the moaning of ghosts if they wanted to find the entrance.

By the time Snape excused himself from the diary's - his Lord's - presence, he had a pretty firm set of suspicions as to who was involved with the diary, the petrification attacks and the message on the wall. However, his suspicions were just that, and therefore not enough to trigger the compulsion to inform the Headmaster of anything. He also had a reasonable suspicion that the tap he had already identified as suspicious - the one that didn't work - was indeed an alternate entrance to the Chamber; accessible only by parsel-mouths unless you didn't mind leaving the entrance open to everyone. But again, it was still a suspicion, and still his secret to keep...

***

She was regretting her hasty actions more by the day. Regretting that she had not, as she had promised, heard Tom out, instead, as he had warned her she would, panicking and running away... Attempting to run away. All she had managed, in reality, was to lose the diary, and her only link to the truth. And now...now she couldn't help but look at everyone differently, wondering whether they were just who they appeared to be, or whether, even now, Tom was watching her, staring accusingly through someone else's eyes.

She had abandoned him to his fate inside the diary, something she had sworn to herself she would not do. But...it had been too much, too quickly. Though he had protested that he had not been acting entirely of his own will when he possessed her to free the Basilisk briefly from the Chamber, he had not been able to explain why, or who was responsible. Coupled with a snippet of overheard conversation - Dumbledore reassuring McGonagall that Hogwarts was perfectly safe from...Voldemort...despite the petrification attacks - that had enabled her to conclusively link 'Tom Riddle' and 'Voldemort' as one and the same, and, well, was it any wonder that she had panicked?

"Pay attention to your potion Miss Weasley - or are you trying to outdo your brothers' combined record of explosions by yourself?" Snape's cool voice forced her to focus on the potion she was meant to be stirring - she had stopped, lost in her thoughts, and now, instead of a bright crimson, it was dark and angry looking, with ominous bubbles that did indeed seem to threaten an impending explosion. Blushing hotly, she began stirring again, jumping slightly every time one of the bubbles that rose to the surface popped.

Snape let his eyes wander the classroom, although the monitoring charms at each desk meant he already knew that Ginevra Weasley's was the only potion in any imminent danger. He spotted another one of the Gryffindors had taken woadwort from the cupboard instead of woundwart, and deftly altered the monitoring charm at their desk to alert him when the vial was opened. He didn't need idiot Gryffindors turning his dungeons blue for a month.

Inevitably though, his gaze fell upon Ginevra Weasley once more. Unless he had been looking for it, he doubted that he would have noticed that she was acting very paranoid. She wasn't going about it in a very Gryffindorish fashion, he had to admit. In fact, it was almost Slytherin the way in which her eyes constantly flicked from person to person, using her peripheral vision to minimise the amount she had to turn her head to see those either side of her. He wondered what she would have done had she not already had a desk at the back of the classroom. Still, it added weight to his suspicions.

Smothering a smirk - he couldn't confirm those suspicions unless he asked either Ginevra or the diary outright, and thus didn't have to tell Dumbledore anything - Snape felt the alarm on the woadwart activate, and instantly began to berate the hapless Gryffindor. Now all he had to do was to check out a few other 'suspicions' he had...

***

That weekend he spoke to the 'diary' again. It was getting harder to converse, as he knew it would not take much for his suspicions now to be confirmed, and if that happened he would have no choice but to go to Dumbledore. Never had the line he walked been finer. As it was, when Dumbledore _did_ finally realise what was going on, Severus had no misapprehensions about who would bear the brunt of the Headmaster's anger.

***

'Lord.'

The simple greeting was layered with meaning, something Tom instantly recognised.

'What's on your mind Severus?'

He responded, giving his loyal follower permission to speak as freely as he felt inclined to. The flood of information that followed, not entirely cohesive, was a huge indication to him of just how much pressure Severus Snape was under. Although he didn't, technically, know the Potions Master personally - Snape having become a Death Eater long after the memory had been preserved - he had heard much about the man from two sources that were varied enough to paint a vivid picture of the reality. Coupled with what the man himself had revealed, and Tom suspected that, had Severus _not_ had this opportunity to let his true feelings out, he might well have finally cracked beneath the weight of Dumbledore's control.

'...Ginevra Weasley has definitely been acting almost, dare I say it, like a Slytherin - and wouldn't that be a Slytherin thing to do, get yourself put where your family expects because...'

Tom knew it wasn't just the pressure or opportunity to open himself up that was causing Severus to do so. There were several subtle enchantments woven into the pages of the diary, not just the one that Severus had broken on finding it, all designed with the same intention; to get the user to confide _everything_. There was no shame to Severus in falling prey to them, Tom knew that even his 'real' self would fall prey to certain of those enchantments if cast by someone else.

'...and _Gods_ I miss him, but it's too dangerous.'

He caught the gist of the last sentence Severus had entered, and the double meaning behind it. He considered for a moment, then cautiously worded his reply.

'I think Lucius would be interested in discussing many things with his son's Head of House.'

'I suspect he would be most interested in you. But someone would need to warn him about the bees.'

Tom smirked at Severus' response.

'I think if you were to write about your dislike of bees in your diary, and then leave Lucius alone in the room with said diary...well, he wouldn't be a Slytherin if he didn't read it, now would he?'

***

The firecall was short and to the point; Severus wanted to see him about Draco's grades. Nothing out of the ordinary there, it was the privilege of the Heads of House to contact their students parents in order to request such meetings after all. And yet...something hadn't felt _right_ about the entire exchange, as though Severus had been desperately trying to convey another meaning altogether.

Lucius felt his expression shift into a scowl. He wasn't sure what to think, especially with the doubts that he _had_ to harbour over where the Potions Master's true loyalties lay. He had been willing to give the other man the benefit of the doubt - he too had been forced to cover his back in order to avoid Azkaban after the Dark Lord's fall - but that had taken a severe blow the previous year, when Severus had been directly responsible for preventing the Dark Lord from acquiring the Philosopher's Stone.

"Lucius? Was that Severus' voice I heard just now?" He smoothed his expression into neutrality as Narcissa entered the room, turning to her with his emotions carefully hidden. Of course, he realised as her own expression went from one of mild curiosity to suspicion, nothing was more likely to arouse her suspicions as 'nothing'.

"Yes, Narcissa, that was Severus." He admitted carefully, aware that she had - and still - refused to believe that Severus could possibly have turned away from their Lord. She had even argued that Severus might be under some sort of controlling spell, but she had no evidence other than 'women's intuition', and Lucius wasn't about to gamble so much on so little. "He wishes to speak with me about Draco's grades." He added, well aware that no explanation would simply fan his wife's conviction that something was going on.

"Really?" She muttered, her gaze raking over him. Lucius wondered whether there was some secret branch of magic that only women - or maybe only wives - could access, because it seemed to him that she looked right through his outwardly neutral countenance to the suspicion and confusion within. "Then what has you unsettled? Are you afraid of something more?" Her words were certain, not hesitant in the slightest, and Lucius gave up his facade with a sigh.

"I don't know." He admitted. "Something just...felt wrong." Narcissa's expression was thoughtful.

"Perhaps he has found a way to let us know what is going on without alerting Dumbledore?" Lucius suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. It would take the intervention of the Dark Lord himself to convince him that Severus was still loyal, whether the Potions Master was under some sort of control spell or not. "You should see what he has to say - it would be suspicious for you not to be concerned with Draco's grades."

Lucius found himself nodding reluctantly, uncertain as to _why_ he was so reluctant. There was the history between himself and Severus of course - a history that really wasn't all that old - but surely it wasn't that? Narcissa was looking through him again, lips pursed at whatever she was seeing - he was certain that she had a touch of the sight, although she always denied it.

"Don't you _dare_ be childish or immature about this Lucius Malfoy." Lucius suppressed a wince at his wife's tone. Whilst he might be the head of the household, he was quite aware that, on the rare occasions that Narcissa _did_ put her foot down, even he didn't dare oppose her without a damn good reason. "You _will_ go to Hogwarts and speak with Severus - or I will have words with Draco."

His eyes widened in shock, and he met her gaze to find that she was truly sincere in her implied threat. Was this _that_ important?

***

Hermione had, once again, been virtually living in the library. Not that this was a new thing; Ron knew as well as anyone else that, should she not be in a lesson, the Great Hall for a meal, or Gryffindor tower, the library was where she would be. He hadn't really given it much thought though, at least, not until she had told him at the evening meal that she needed to talk to him and the twins.

It turned out, he discovered, listening as she explained what she had actually been researching in the library, that since their search for the Heir of Slytherin had been brought to an abrupt halt, she had changed tactics and begun attempting to discover how the attacks had been carried out.

He would never have thought it of her, but apparently the twins were rubbing off on her somewhat, and she had once again used Lockhart's gormlessness to gain access to the books in the restricted section. There, or so she reported, she had found two things that pointed to wildly differing conclusions.

"So, let me get this straight." He hesitantly interrupted. "Petrification like the victims we've seen so far could be caused either by a _Basilisk_, or by a _Dark_ potion?" She nodded, and he sighed in relief before grimacing. "That makes it easy then, it has to be Snape." The grimace was for the fact that he had the sneaking suspicion a Basilisk would have been easier to deal with.

"The only thing is, surely Malfoy would know if it was his own Head of House?" Hermione pointed out.

"Not..."

"...necessarily." Fred and George interrupted, looking unusually serious. Ron's ears pricked up; his brothers were two years older and thus provided with more opportunity to overhear things of importance from their parents.

"If Snape really _was_ part of you-know-who's inner circle..." Fred began.

"...there's a chance this is too high for Malfoy to know about." The four of them sat in silence, contemplating the new possibilities this opened up.

"There's a problem though." Hermione finally announced. "Assuming it _is_ Snape, he has to be using a potion - potions just don't work on ghosts, so how did Nearly Headless Nick get petrified?" The faces of the Weasley brothers fell.

"Maybe Nick wasn't petrified - maybe it just _looks_ like he was, but really it was some sort of full body binding spell specifically for ghosts?" Hermione appeared to mull over Ron's suggestion for a moment and finally nodded.

"I suppose it could be." She nodded again, more firmly this time. "Yes, it could be...still, we can't rule out the idea of a Basilisk completely - legends always have _some_ basis in fact after all."

"Come on Hermione! A Basilisk, in Hogwarts? I think the Headmaster would know about something like that...at least, I hope he would..." Ron looked suddenly uncertain, perhaps recalling the incident with the Philosopher's Stone, and the fact that Voldemort had actually been _possessing_ one of their teachers.

"It's possible, and the attacks have been too true to the myths of Basilisk abilities for my liking. Think about it, it's awfully coincidental that every petrification can plausibly be explained through reflection - or deflection - of a Basilisk's gaze. Surely Snape isn't _that_ good?" The three Weasleys thought about it. Mrs Norris, reflection in the water from the flooded girls bathroom. The Ravenclaw, Esmeralda Lloyd, reflection in a suit of armour, presumably. Justin Fitch-Fetchly and Nearly Headless Nick...was it possible that he'd seen a Basilisk _through_ the ghost, who obviously couldn't die _again_...?

"I don't know." Ron admitted, shaking his head. "But my money's on Snape. How would a Basilisk survive for a thousand years without feeding?" Hermione pursed her lips.

"The only way we could tell for certain would be to see whether the Corpo Renovita potion had any effect on the victims. It will cure a Basilisk victim, but not a Dark potion victim. But we have no way to do that until the Mandrakes are ready." She sighed in frustration. "I...no, I can't say for certain either way, but I'm going to start using a mirror before I go around any corners. I'm also going to try and find out whether there's any reliable speculation on what would happen if a ghost were to be a victim of a Basilisk's stare..."

"You four - lights out is in five minutes, up to your dorms with you!" Percy's voice interrupted anything else Hermione might have said. Rolling their eyes, the four obediently headed to bed, suspicions firm in their minds.

***

Lucius strode through the corridors of Hogwarts, feet well versed in the route into and through the Dungeons. He barely needed to think consciously about getting to Severus Snape's office, not that he'd been there for going on a year now, but before that... Either way, it was a good thing that he didn't need to concentrate on where he was going, because if there was one thing that Lucius couldn't do right at that very moment, it was concentrate.

The last time he'd spoken to Severus it had been, well, unpleasant was as good a word for it as any. It had been right after the Potions Master had prevented the Dark Lord's spirit from attaining the Philosopher's Stone, and the memory was still vivid and painful in Lucius' mind, an ever-present sting of betrayal. It had been Severus who'd firecalled him then as well; not that he'd given the other man a chance to speak, laying straight into him with a flurry of accusations before telling him quite clearly that he wasn't to firecall again, and cutting the connection.

With a slight start Lucius came back to full awareness of his surroundings, realising that he had arrived at his destination. There was no more time to procrastinate, no more time to avoid the confrontation he felt certain was coming. Almost gingerly, Lucius rapped on the door.

"Enter." The response was muffled by the wood, but Lucius thought it sounded slightly hesitant. That wasn't all that surprising, however, especially if Severus had also been dwelling on the memories of their last 'conversation'. Feeling slightly more certain of himself - at least he wasn't the only one entering this with mixed emotions - Lucius pushed the door open and entered the Potions Master's office.

***

The room hadn't changed since his last visit - or at least, it didn't seem that it had. There were a few new interesting specimens - identification was far beyond his rudimentary potions skills, but he thought one was a human heart - but other than that, it was the same office he had once regularly visited. A wave of nostalgia swept over him, a bittersweet pang for the days when he had thought there were certain things that would never change, that there were certain people who could be trusted in implicitly...

"Lucius..." Severus' voice, uncharacteristically soft, snapped him out of his introspective musing.

"As Draco's father, my name is Mr. Malfoy." Lucius snapped, eyes narrowing sharply. It was an instinctive reaction to the stab of betrayal he felt at Severus' use of his name. He didn't miss the way Severus' eyes closed in a blink that lasted a fraction of a second too long - he had hurt the other man. Lucius was torn; part of him was gloating at being able to inflict even the smallest fraction of the pain he had felt, but another part of him wanted nothing more than to apologise...for everything.

"As you wish, Mr. Malfoy." Lucius suppressed a wince - he would _not_ back down, not without proof, not without an explanation. "I have to fetch some documents from my rooms, please excuse me a moment." The coolly formal manner in which Severus spoke cut Lucius to the bone, and yet, he knew it had been his decision to force their relationship into its current form. Yet, he was beginning to doubt his own conclusions. He had ended things between them in the heat of realising what Severus had done to their Lord, but now he was here, now he had hurt the younger man with his words once more, and yet there had been no retaliation...what did it mean?

Belatedly Lucius realised that Severus had left the office. Realising that this was his opportunity to see if the other man had left anything of importance lying around - unlikely, but it was a Slytherin habit he had no intention of breaking - Lucius approached the large desk. He knew better than to attempt opening any of the drawers, but anything on the desk surface was fair game...such as the book on... Lucius did a double take. Since when did _Severus_ read books about Divination? It wasn't, he supposed, entirely impossible that there was something about Divinations and Potions, but still, it was highly suspicious...

Quickly checking to see that the Potions Master hadn't returned - he knew all too well how good Severus was at moving around without making a noise - Lucius held his hand over the book and concentrated. It was a _very_ well-kept secret, but whilst he didn't have enough of a specific affinity to warrant one of the old titles, he had a minor affinity for all except grey magic. What he found shocked him again, but this time his thoughts began to race. Severus had managed to summon him for the most plausible of reasons, and had then conspicuously left him alone in the office. Alone with the barely-concealed diary of T.M. Riddle. And Severus was one of the few people who knew of his ability...

Wondering whether he was playing into the Potions Master's hands for good or ill, Lucius tentatively opened the diary, and, absently using Severus' marking quill, wrote a greeting.

'My Lord.'

***

It had hurt, so, so much. Remembering their last 'conversation', wondering if there was still a chance for the relationship between them to be repaired. And then, when he had tentatively asked the unspoken question, to have Lucius respond so viciously... It had taken all his self control not to snap back, not to take the easier course and let what little hope remained burn to bitter ashes in a circle of anger and hurt. But he had controlled himself, acquiescing to Lucius' wishes, somewhat mollified to see the wince that was suppressed as he did so. Lucius was not so certain of his betrayal as he had seemed, perhaps.

But there was still, or had been still, the question of whether the elder Malfoy would open the diary or not. There was no question that he would realise it had been left for him to find deliberately. Would his emotions - for Severus knew better than most that the Malfoy facade was merely that - cloud his judgement and make him turn away in spite, or would they prompt him to see where the path led? Thankfully it was the latter; the enchantment Severus had placed on the diary told him that much. But...a year. A year for everything to fester and grow out of proportion... Would even the Dark Lord's word be enough to convince Lucius that Severus' actions had not been his own, had, in fact been with the aim of _saving_ the Dark Lord?

***

If Draco had thought himself perplexed before, it was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. His father had come to Hogwarts - seemingly out of the blue - and, rather than being the cold, acerbic man he had become over the last year, he had apparently reverted back to the father Draco knew much better. Lucius had given him a rather tatty diary - although given the name inside that didn't surprise him - and then, disturbingly, had _patiently_ explained, not once, but _twice_, exactly what he was supposed to do with it.

He had been thinking about what it all meant ever since then. Not that the thought of disobeying his father's orders ever crossed his mind. He was quite aware that, whatever had put his father in such a good mood, _he_ was still very much _not_ in his father's good graces. Well, not in his best graces where he should be anyway. Thus, when the first opportunity came around - which didn't happen until breakfast a fortnight later - Draco carried out his mission.

"The purpose of a diary, Weaselette, is to write in it, not just to throw it away." As he sneered this at the youngest Weasley, who had blanched unhealthily, he casually tossed the diary in her direction. She nearly fell over herself to catch it, causing him to chuckle in amusement. Internally he was wondering once more. Even if it was a diary, it was blank - even to revealing spells - so why was she so concerned about it? More to the point, how on earth had his _father_ ended up with it?

Frowning, and ignoring what _might_ have been a murmured 'thank you' from the Weaselette, Draco headed over to the Slytherin table. As he ate a sparse breakfast of pumpkin juice and plain toast, he found himself turning all the pieces of the puzzle over in his mind. He _knew_ everything was connected, but _how_?

His frown deepened. The diary had to be a key part to understanding; but did that mean that it really _wasn't_ a diary at all? What made less sense was that the diary seemed to be the link between his father's plans and the incident in Flourish and Blotts. It only made sense for his father to have had the diary this time if he'd already had it once, placed some sort of enchantment on it to ensure it returned to him if it was lost, and then passed it to the Weaselette unnoticed in the scuffle before the start of term. _Why_? That was what he had no way of finding out...unless he asked either the Weaselette or his father straight out... No, Draco didn't think he'd get any answers that way. Dammit. The more he learned, the less he understood.

Shaking his head and resolving to demonstrate that he _could_ be patient, Draco decided to leave well enough alone. He wouldn't be surprised to eventually learn that this had all been a test of his ability to be discrete.

***

It had happened again. After nearly five months without any major incidents, two more students had been petrified. Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater, apparently petrified as they left the library together, had been placed with the other petrification victims in the Hospital Wing. Ron, Fred and George were currently staring solemnly at the stiff form of their friend, still somewhat in shock.

"Snape must've realised she was onto him." Ron finally whispered, having checked that said Professor was nowhere in earshot. Fred and George exchanged a sombre glance.

"I don't think it's Snape." Fred responded, equally softly, George nodding in agreement.

"She has a mirror in one hand..." George pointed out.

"Yeah, but she said before she was going to start doing that." Ron reminded him.

"...but what's the paper in her other hand?" Fred wondered, finishing his twin's interrupted thought. Ron reached over and, with a bit of luck, managed to prise the scrap of paper from Hermione's frozen grip. There was a single word written on it.

"Basilisk." Ron whispered. The three fell silent again; was there really a Basilisk loose within Hogwarts?

***

The three Weasleys emerged from the Hospital Wing into utter chaos. Hogwart's rumour-mill was so fast it was near instantaneous, and thus, when the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, had arrived with a squad of Aurors to remove the generally well-liked Care of Magical Creatures Professor, Hagrid, it had been known by everyone within minutes. The full details, of course, were a mystery, but there was little doubt that it had _something_ to do with the petrification attacks.

What the general student population didn't know, although most of the staff and ghosts did, was that Hagrid had been accused in similar circumstances 50 years previously, and thus didn't stand a chance against Fudge's determination to look like he was doing what was best.

Fred and George looked at each other, the inevitable conclusion drawn.

"Who would be insane enough..." Fred slowly started.

"...to have a Basilisk as a pet?" George finished. Ron whirled to look at them, comprehension dawning in his eyes.

"Hagrid...but...surely he _knows_ how dangerous that would be - and illegal." Fred shook his head.

"Didn't stop him with the dragon..."

"...Norbert, last year, did it?" George concluded, vividly remembering their elder brother Charlie's recounting of how he, and a few friends, had smuggled said dragon out of the country at Dumbledore's request.

"Well, I suppose." Ron conceded, his expression suddenly turning to one of horror. "But, if it _is_ Hagrid's pet, who's going to control it now?" The three brothers looked anxiously at one another.

"We'll just have to..."

"...trust in Dumbledore." Ron brightened at the twins proclamation. They were right; as long as Dumbledore was there, Hogwarts was perfectly safe. He gladly ignored the tiny voice at the back of his mind that wondered how safe a place that had already seen six petrification victims really was...

***

He hadn't anticipated Fudge's interference in his plans. Well, not that Hagrid's removal was of major import, but still, some of the staff were more than capable of putting two and two together. Hagrid had been accused 50 years ago after all; it was why the half-giant had never completed his schooling and why the Ministry had broken his wand.

Other than Fudge's accidental involvement, however, his plans were proceeding smoothly. This was only to be expected though. After all, he _had_ planned for every eventuality, including Lucius arriving - as he just had - and attempting to remove him from his position. Yes, he would have to reveal more cards than he'd wished to, but in the process he would further widen the rift between the two men. He chuckled darkly. The Unholy Trinity would be split beyond repair, and his puppet, who seemed to have already surrendered to the inevitable, would truly be left with no other options.

"Do come in Lucius." The door swung open - a useful enchantment that never failed to impress students - revealing Lucius with his cane raised to rap upon the wood. A blond eyebrow quirked upwards even as he lowered the cane and stepped smoothly into the office.

"Albus." Lucius acknowledged him, eyes half-lidded and making him, to Dumbledore's mind, seem even more like the serpent that he was. "I believe you know why I am here." The blond stated, placing a scroll on the desk and sliding it across. Already, as Lucius had stated, knowing why the blond was there, and thus what the scroll was, Dumbledore nonetheless unrolled it, ignoring the formal text at the top - a declaration that the school governors had lost faith in his continued inability to do anything decisive about the attacks - to scrutinise the signatures.

"I see you've been busy pulling strings." Dumbledore murmured, sending out a silent summons for Snape.

"We expect you to be gone from Hogwarts by midnight tonight." Lucius continued, ignoring the Headmaster's intimations.

"You won't even allow me the courtesy of a defence?" Lucius frowned slightly, the expression deepening as a knock sounded on the door. "Come in, Severus." Dumbledore, watching Lucius closely, didn't miss the brief expression of confusion that flickered across the blond's face. "Do take a seat, both of you." They both obediently sat, Snape without a choice in the matter, Lucius in confusion. "Now, as is my right, I will plead my case for the fact that none of the students here are in true danger." Lucius' eyebrows rose fractionally, and he glanced at Snape as though he had suddenly realised what the presence of the other man meant. "Severus?"

It sounded like a request, but Severus, feeling the sickening sensation of the Headmaster taking over his actions, knew that it was really just an excuse to shift the focus onto him.

"I am the one who has been petrifying the students." Severus heard the words leaving his lips, but he was helpless to stop or censor them. Instead he did the only thing he could, and prayed that their Lord had explained things in enough detail that Lucius knew not to trust anything he was saying - especially in the presence of Albus Dumbledore.

"Indeed?" Dumbledore was impressed at Lucius' control. The blond's voice gave away not the slightest hint of his reaction to Severus' confession. "You will forgive me, Albus, if I insist that I hear that statement again under Veritaserum."

"I have no objections." Dumbledore responded without hesitation. The rift would be so much larger for the fact that Lucius still seemed to harbour doubts over Snape's true loyalties. As soon as Severus confessed under Veritaserum the Unholy Trinity would be broken beyond repair.

***

Lucius mentally danced for joy. He knew what Dumbledore was expecting - that Severus would repeat his confession under the Veritaserum - and he also knew what would really happen. He had learnt much conversing with his Lord when he had visited Severus, including the fact that Severus _hadn't_ been petrifying the students. It was, he thought, high time that Dumbledore had a taste of his own manipulative medicine.

Severus was also extremely relieved to hear Dumbledore agree to the Veritaserum, however, his mind was instantly consumed with the worry that the Headmaster might somehow slip him a fake instead of the real potion, and simply manipulate him once more. Thus he was further relieved to see Lucius retrieve a vial of the potion from his robes, the blond seemingly having also anticipated this scenario. Dumbledore seemed amused at Lucius' foresight - or perhaps he thought it was paranoia? - and watched without objection as the blond administered three drops to his Potions Master.

"Well, Severus. Would you care to repeat your confession." Snape felt blissful relief fill him at Lucius' words. Dumbledore's expression had suddenly gone blank, a sign that the older wizard had picked up a hint that all was not as he expected.

"No. I would not. I did not petrify any of the victims currently residing in the Hospital Wing." It was quite, quite satisfying to see Dumbledore blanch, although he knew he would pay for it later.

***

Of all the...! Dumbledore couldn't believe what he was hearing. There was no doubt in his mind that Lucius had indeed administered three drops of Veritaserum, and thus that Severus was telling the truth. But it suddenly seemed as if, whilst he had been travelling one route, events had, in fact, been spinning out along another route. And to think, he suddenly realised, that he had merely assumed all the little clues, the little hints that there really _was_ a Basilisk, were due to Snape 'getting into the role'. How could he have been so blind?

"Very well." He conceded, mind racing. There had to be something that he had missed... "I shall vacate Hogwarts by midnight - Severus, a word." Lucius didn't look impressed by the dismissal, but seemed to realise he would get nothing more, and slowly rose and left the office. From the way Severus' eyes suddenly opened fractionally wider, however, Dumbledore knew the other man suspected what would come. Casting a near impenetrable - and decidedly illegal - silencing ward around the office, Dumbledore let his mask of unconcern drop away.

Snape paled, but he didn't even have time to swallow before the headmaster was brutally forcing his way into his mind...

***

Lucius had known, somewhere deep in his gut, that leaving Severus alone with Dumbledore could only be a bad thing. But even as a school governor there was only so much that he could do. Dumbledore was perfectly within his rights to speak to a Professor in private. His feeling of dread only intensified as, loitering next to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office, he sensed magic that bore the distinct feel of a silencing spell of some strength.

Anxious now, and quite aware that he had left the Potions Master still under the influence of the Veritaserum, Lucius prayed to every deity he could think of that Dumbledore wouldn't go too far in his angry search for the truth...

***

Severus wasn't sure how he'd managed to get back to his quarters. Nor was he certain how he'd managed to undress and get into bed. He was pretty certain though, that in both cases he'd had a great deal of help from the tall blond spooned up behind him.

Feeling safe wrapped in Lucius' arms - two sensations he'd almost begun to forget - Severus tried to remember what had happened after the blond had left him alone with Dumbledore. It wasn't pleasant. Dumbledore had raped his mind before, on numerous occasions after the first war against the Dark Lord in fact. It hadn't been until the Imperius spell had been used on him that the attacks had begun to die down. Now, of course, Dumbledore was aware that he was aware of the limits of the 'leash' and had mercilessly exploited them as only a Slytherin could. He was aware, and he wasn't pleased - to put it mildly.

He could vaguely recall the path the Headmaster's mind had blazed through his own, although whether recalling was the correct word... It was more a case of gingerly thinking about different subjects and seeing what was bruised - which was damn near everything as far as he could tell - and what wasn't. It was no use. He shuddered, realising he had no other options but to perform a more thorough - and painful - examination in order to determine exactly what Dumbledore had been most interested in.

"Shh..." The murmur was accompanied by a gentle caress along his arm, Lucius offering reassurance through his presence.

"Lucius..." A multitude of questions were posed with the single soft utterance. In response the older man's arms tightened around him. Lucius understood. Severus' relief was almost tangible.

"Severus, I..." There was an awkward pause. "I should've listened first - I'm sorry." There was another long and awkward silence.

"I know." And that was it. The misunderstandings and awkwardness of the past year dissolved and vanished like mist on a crisp Autumn morning. For that moment, that single, perfect moment, they were in perfect harmony with one another.

Of course, it couldn't last. But it was exactly what they needed to begin the process of following Dumbledore's rampage through Severus' mind...

***

It was only for Severus' - who was clearly in a great deal of pain, no matter how hard he tried to hide it - sake that Lucius was determinedly reining in his temper. It seemed that Dumbledore hadn't bothered with finesse, simply trampling through Severus' memories until he found the ones he was interested in. Unfortunately that meant he'd discovered pretty much everything that had been going on, and had, in the process, caused a good degree of trauma within Severus' otherwise organised mind. Fortunately - and as morbid as the thought was, there was a fortunately - it also meant that a great deal of things that could have caused serious problems had the Headmaster discovered them, had remained undiscovered. It also seemed that, in his carelessness, Dumbledore had managed to damage his own complex charms, most specifically, those charms that forced Severus to report anything he learned relating to the Dark Lord that the Headmaster did not know.

"You know what must be done." Severus' voice was strained, both with pain and in anticipation of what was to come. Lucius nodded, not trusting his voice. It was a scenario they had contemplated many years before, the three of them, the 'Unholy Trinity'. They had never really believed it might become a necessity to actually carry the plan out...

The plan, they had jokingly called it 'puppet' - a joke that now seemed a bitter irony - was in the event that one of their number fell under the forcible sway of the enemy. Essentially it involved stripping every memory that they couldn't afford for the enemy to discover, placing them into a pensieve and then obliviating the 'puppet'. No matter what was then done to the 'puppet' they simply _couldn't_ reveal anything because, to all intents and purposes, they no longer knew anything.

The downside was that it left the 'puppet' wide open to mental manipulation. The Imperius curse, Legilimency, anything to do with or affecting the mind could no longer be defended against. What they were planning to do, in essence, was remove anything that Dumbledore could possibly find useful in terms of knowledge, and then abandon Severus to his 'tender mercies'.

And it was not as if he could simply persuade Severus to leave Hogwarts and go into hiding elsewhere, Lucius mused. What they were doing was taking a huge gamble, and hoping that Dumbledore would be vicious and conceited enough to attempt to use Severus against the Dark Lord when - there was no 'if' for truly loyal Death Eaters - he rose again.

"You are absolutely certain?" Lucius asked, knowing it was futile to hope otherwise. Severus nodded. "Very well. Where is the pensieve?"

***

It took Albus Dumbledore several hours to sort through the mess of 'suspicions' that he had gleaned from his, rebellious, puppet's mind. When he had, finally, however, managed to make sense of them, he could barely contain his glee. Simply because he rarely used his knowledge of the dark arts didn't mean he didn't have that knowledge. He recognised what the diary truly was - and he could guess at its aim.

His lips curled as he also contemplated the fact that there was indeed a Chamber of Secrets - and a Basilisk. Well, he could deal with those when he had dealt with the school governors and returned to Hogwarts. The diary, he suppressed a snort at the simplistic description, would sort itself out and, coincidentally, would also take care of Voldemort's spirit - wherever _that_ had gone. And to think, all it would take would be the sacrifice of a single Weasley - no great, or likely permanent, loss, not the way _they_ bred.

With the real Voldemort out of the way, it would be a simple matter to, when convenient, stage a battle in which he defeated the 'Dark Lord'. Yes, despite Severus' attempts to rebel against his control, Voldemort _would_ be destroyed...

***

It was evidence of how brutal Dumbledore had been in his search for information; the pensieve, when Severus and Lucius between them had finished removing key and untouched memories, and knowledge that he would not need if it became necessary to access the Chamber, was barely half-full. Severus himself could feel how thoroughly the Headmaster had wrought his destruction; even with all that they had removed into the pensieve, he felt no different. Well, except for an almost euphoric sense of freedom... Severus frowned, examining his mind to try and identify what had changed so drastically. What he found made him laugh out loud.

"I would have done this much sooner had I known that it would remove the old fool's leash on me!" He explained, somewhat bitterly. Lucius' eyes widened at the near-hysteria he could hear threatening to break through Severus' composure.

"Don't you _dare_ do something utterly stupid like attempting to assassinate Dumbledore." He hissed, grabbing the younger man by the shoulders and shaking him slightly. "What would Narcissa and Draco do without you?" He demanded. "What would _I_ do without you?" It was clear that, so used to bracing himself against severe mental pressure, Severus had yet to find his balance now that pressure was gone. "You have to remain strong, for us. For the Dark Lord." The younger man seemed to grasp at the last. The Dark Lord, the embodiment of their ideals and everything they stood for.

"The Dark Lord." Severus murmured, nodding. His eyes suddenly widened. "The diary!" Lucius blinked in confusion.

"The diary? What about it?" He watched as Severus rose from his chair and began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace, gesturing as he attempted to explain.

"Dumbledore obviously knows about the diary now, and yet he took no action against it before he left - why? What does he know that neither we, nor our Lord, know about it?" Lucius frowned. Severus had a very good point. "There is also the question of why our Lord felt compelled to release the Basilisk at the same time as I was compelled by Dumbledore to use the Vita Mora potions." Lucius' frown deepened.

"A connection through your mark?" He suggested. "But, if our Lord's memory was placed in that diary _before_ you were marked..." Severus was nodding.

"Do you think it is possible that the diary is somehow _more_ than just a stored memory?" It was Lucius' turn to nod in agreement.

"It would make sense. After all, it appears to have been some sort of safeguard against what happened, and if the intention was to enable our Lord to rise again then it would have to be more than _just_ a stored memory." He watched as Severus continued to pace back and forth, lost in thought. It hadn't taken long for the younger man to adjust his mental balance; there was a reason, after all, that Severus was the spy of the Trinity.

"...Lucius?" With a start the blond realised that he'd zoned out watching Severus pace, something that seemed to have amused the younger man. He raised an eyebrow, a silent request for Severus to repeat his question. "I asked if the Malfoy library might not have something about storing memories." Severus patiently repeated. Lucius thought for a moment.

"It is possible, but I don't know how long it will take to find anything - it's not as though we know exactly what we're looking for." Severus nodded.

"I don't think time is a problem - not yet. Narcissa might know something that will help you narrow down the search. I'll start on the restricted section here - I think I remember seeing something in one of the index books..."

***

Two weeks after Dumbledore had been removed, leaving Minerva McGonagall in charge, and Hogwarts had settled back into an uneasy routine. There had been no more attacks, and rumours abounded as to whether it meant that Hagrid truly _had_ been responsible. Speculation also ran rife on when - or if - Dumbledore would be allowed to return...

Ginny Weasley was one of the few students who knew for certain that Hagrid had not been responsible. It was one of the reasons she had yet to write in the diary again, despite it having been returned by Draco.

Severus Snape, on the other hand, was one of the few people who, now, knew exactly what was going on, and what was being done by whom. Unfortunately, with classes continuing, he had not yet found the time to dedicate himself to a thorough search of the restricted section in his quest to solve the mystery that remained; why had Dumbledore's compulsion on _him_ also seemed to result in a compulsion on the _diary_?

***

It was Sunday, and Ginny had decided it was time to confront Tom Riddle about a few things. Whilst she wasn't the top student in her classes, no one could accuse her of being slow, and she had questions she wanted answered before she permitted Tom to possess her again; especially since the Headmaster had apparently been removed because of the petrifications.

'Tom, I need you to be honest with me.'

That was one bonus of everything she wrote being absorbed, she mused, recalling Draco's taunt about diaries being for writing in. If anyone tried to sneak a look at what she had written, they would see nothing but blank pages.

'You will not run away this time?'

Ginny flushed.

'No.'

She wrote slowly and firmly.

'Then ask your questions, and I will answer, though you may not like what you hear.'

Ginny nodded to herself. She was well aware that Lord Voldemort had been responsible for many horrible things, but even though she knew Tom Riddle was Lord Voldemort, the two seemed nothing alike.

'What are you really? I mean, surely it isn't possible to trap a person completely inside a diary?'

***

It wasn't the question he had been expecting, not even having been privy to Ginny's deepest hopes, fears, dreams and desires. Strangely, though, he felt no inclination to lie, in fact quite the opposite. He felt almost compelled to repay her honesty and trust with his own, and yet he could tell that it was no spell causing him to feel that way...

'I am a memory of my 'real' self - the diary is simply the means by which I am preserved and can communicate with others. And yet, I somehow feel that it is possible for me to leave the diary, to become real and be free once more. Maybe my 'real' self is dead, maybe it is a side effect of the process that created me, I don't know...'

***

_'The process of recording ones memories for posterity is much of a muchness with the process for using a pensieve. Differences include the inability to return memories recorded thus to the mind of the originator, with side effects of madness known to occur if too many or the wrong memories are removed. Mediums that can be used for such storage include scrolls, books and paintings - namely, anything that can maintain a degree of magic...'_

Severus sighed and let the scroll snap itself shut before he pushed it to one side, joining an ever-growing pile of such scrolls that he had discarded. So far, although he had found much on the subject of removing and preserving memories, he had found nothing to suggest that one might go a step further and somehow imbue those memories with an identity - or perhaps a fragment of a soul...

Reaching out for the next scroll, he instead found his hand bumping against a book. Glancing up he was surprised to see that he had worked his way through all the scrolls and was now faced with a daunting pile of dark arts books. It would, he reflected, easing the first book from the top of the pile, have been a much more daunting pile of books had he not been able to rule out those which he had read before. Sighing, he opened the book, _'Magick Moste Evile'_, and began to skim over the introduction...

***

'Do you know what was compelling you to release the Basilisk?'

Ginny asked after contemplating his response to her first question. It had sounded sincere enough, and she had the strangest sensation that she would _know_ if he lied to her.

'No. All I know is that it must be somehow linked to Professor Snape and the compulsion he has been feeling...'

It all came pouring out then, despite Tom's reservations. Everything about Snape being loyal, but manipulated by Albus Dumbledore, even to the point of putting students needlessly in danger...

***

Severus was growing more and more frustrated. None of the books or scrolls within Hogwarts library held anything beyond basic information on memory storage; and none of the basic information suggested that anything except storage was possible. The pile of scrolls and books that had begun on the right side of the desk were now all on the left, with the exception of _'Magicks Moste Evile'_, which was sat in the centre of the desk.

He wasn't sure, having skimmed through the book, why his search had identified it, as it mentioned nothing about memory storage at all. The only thing of note it did mention, and then only to say it would not be mentioning them further, was something called Horcruxes...

Severus hurried off to check the catalogue.

***

Ginny could barely believe what she was reading. She didn't _want_ to believe what she was reading. The Headmaster was kind and benevolent, not a power-hungry old man determined to use any means necessary to realise his goals. But...she knew Tom wasn't lying, and although she didn't know _how_ she knew, she knew she couldn't close her eyes to the truth or run away, much as she might want to. She had asked for the truth, even though he had warned her that she would not like it, and she had promised not to run - plus she had run once, and it had solved nothing...

***

There was _nothing_ in the library about Horcruxes - other than the brief mention he had already found that was. Suddenly certain time was running out - and with no other avenues of inquiry to explore - Severus hurried out of the library and towards the nearest open-access floo, which just happened to be the Headmaster's office. If Hogwarts library didn't have any information on Horcruxes, the Malfoy library might...

***

'As Lord Voldemort, what are your plans for the wizarding world?'

There was a long pause, and Ginny wondered whether it was because he was debating how to answer her question, or whether he was still wondering at his answer to her previous question.

'I know from Lucius that I seem to have used questionable methods, just as Dumbledore used questionable methods against me, but I can only believe that I would do such things as a last resort - it is entirely possible that Dumbledore forced me into such situations, but I cannot know with any certainty.'

There was a somewhat reflective pause.

'I am a half blood myself, although I promote pureblood supremacist ideals, but by doing so I hope that I can make those who would prefer more extremist methods see the sense of a rational solution. I know all too well how badly muggles can and do treat anyone who is seen as 'different', whether that difference is magical ability, appearance or even the way someone speaks. I also know that the wizarding world would easily be eliminated by the muggles should it come to open warfare; whilst we can kill a person instantly with a single spell, muggles can kill millions instantly with a single weapon and render the land where those people used to live uninhabitable for millennia.'

Ginny swallowed, struggling to wrap her mind around the concept of death on such a large scale.

'I want to increase the secrecy of the wizarding world, but also to increase its security in the almost-inevitable event that the muggles discover we do indeed exist.'

'How...?'

Ginny wondered if her horror, learning the danger their world was in, would transmit itself through the hesitant query.

'More support for magical children with no parents or only one parent. Our world can cope with a certain number of muggles within it, especially if those muggles remarry and produce more magical children. We cannot cut off ties with the muggle world completely or the bloodlines will stagnate. Tighter secrecy controls - it is all too easy for a muggle to forget themselves and say something out of turn - so that muggles _cannot_ reveal us to anyone who doesn't already know. Better organisation of our own world - we are too splintered across the world - maybe to the extent of forming a purely wizarding country that the muggles cannot find. There is much that could be done, but only by a dictator, and for that reason I am willing to be a necessary evil.'

***

If he had taken a moment to think about it, Severus would have been expecting Minerva to be in the Headmaster's office. However, with his mind on what Horcruxes might be, and a definite sense that time was growing ever shorter, he really hadn't thought beyond getting to Malfoy Manor as quickly as possible. So, when he slipped into the office - the password thankfully not having been changed - he was almost as startled to see Minerva as she was to see him.

"Severus...is there something wrong? Please don't tell me there's been another attack." Minerva, for once, sounded her age, the stress of the situation clearly taking its toll. Severus, however, had no time to spare for niceties, and now that he was free of Dumbledore's leash, there was nothing to stop him from hexing his fellow Professor senseless. He was, however, a Slytherin, and whilst doing so might have afforded him considerable amusement and satisfaction, he was well aware that it would definitely _not_ be beneficial in the long term.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, striding over to the fireplace, knowing what her answer would be even before she nodded.

"Of course. But what...?"

"I'll explain when I get back." Grabbing a handful of floo powder, he tossed it into the flames, barely waiting for them to turn green before speaking the password for his destination and stepping into the fireplace. Belatedly, as he felt himself whisked away, he spared a thought to hope that the wards of Malfoy Manor would still allow him access...

***

'I don't really understand.'

Ginny admitted. She was only a first year, the youngest of her family, and she had an eleven-year-old's typical interest in politics; that was to say, none.

'But, it doesn't sound bad, not like everyone says you are.'

She added the caveat hurriedly, not really wanting him to attempt to explain it to her. The sentiment behind the words meant more to her than the words themselves. Again, she wasn't sure how she knew what Tom was feeling as he wrote to her, but she did, and she trusted what she was sensing in the same way she trusted the feeling of honesty...

Chewing her lower lip thoughtfully, she wrote her last question.

'What do you need to get free of the diary?'

***

"LUCIUS! Tell the damned wards to let me go!" The irate bellow, coming hot on the heels of the wards themselves alerting Lucius to an intruder, was still enough of a surprise to make the usually-graceful blond jump and nearly fall from his seat. A string of curses followed, and Lucius' eyebrows rose as he wondered at Severus', for the voice was clearly his, haste.

Hurrying towards the library's fireplace, Lucius incanted the acceptance chant as he went, arriving just in time to flick a droplet of blood at the fire's marble surround. The blood was absorbed, and the wards released the Potions Master.

"What...?" Lucius got no further before Severus, after shooting him a venomous glare, brushed past and headed towards the library's catalogue.

"Horcruxes." Severus stated succinctly, more to the catalogue than Lucius. The blond blinked in confusion, then shrugged. He was no stranger to Severus when he was possessed by the need to research something. The younger man would explain in due course...he hoped.

"Lucius!" Belatedly he realised that the catalogue had answered Severus' query, and that he had gone to fetch, he checked the catalogue himself, yes, several very heavy tomes... Sighing - maybe if Draco saw this he wouldn't be so quick to dismiss tasks as 'beneath' him - Lucius hurried after Severus.

***

Neither of them would back down.

Ginny was adamant that Hogwarts would be closed if there continued to be attacks on the students, which would result in loss of access to the Chamber anyway.

Tom was equally adamant that unless she wanted a murder, an actual, permanent, never-coming-back _death_ on her conscience, stealing minute portions of each petrified student's life-force was the only way he could resurrect himself...

***

_'It has long been argued whether Horcruxes are 'Dark' magic, or merely 'dark', with the majority of those arguing for the former stating as their sole case that, by virtue of the fact that committing murder is by far the simplest and thus most commonly-used method for splitting ones soul into fragments - inescapably necessary if one is to store a fragment of ones soul within another object. As a proponent of the argument for the latter, however, I feel compelled to emphasise the fact that murder is by no means the_ only _way in which one can force ones soul to fragment. Indeed, the very definition of 'Dark' magic is_ 'those magicks that draw on the vitality of the caster or supplement the vitality of the caster by drawing on the vitality of another, without requiring the express consent of that other.' _Thus, in that creating a Horcrux does not draw on the vitality of the caster - unless Dark magic is used as a method of splintering the soul - it follows that creating a Horcrux is not - except, as noted, where Dark magic is used to split the soul - Dark magic._

Frowning, Severus pushed the book - a treatise on various magicks, potions and processes that were, at the time, debated as being 'Dark' or 'dark' - to one side and pulled the next over, leafing quickly through it until he found the referenced page.

_'...a memory has been successfully stored, for example, within a blank book, it is possible to take the process a step further and add to that memory a fragment of the soul of the 'real self' or originator of the memory. Certain attributes are carried over to the memory in such a case, in particular, if the 'real self' has vassals under an obedience bond, then the memory will 'feel' an echo of certain actions upon vassals under the bond.'_

"So _that's_ what was happening..." Severus muttered. He glanced up as Lucius cleared his throat, meeting the blond's enquiring - and confused - gaze. "The diary isn't just a memory, it's a Horcrux - it contains a piece of our Lord's soul. When Dumbledore was trying to compel me to fake a Basilisk attack it was 'echoing' through my mark to the diary, causing our Lord's memory to possess Ginevra and open the Chamber." Not waiting to see comprehension dawn, Severus looked back down, skimming the rest of the page until he was certain the topic had changed completely. Pushing that book to join the other, he pulled a third over.

_'...evidence suggests that, were a 'conscious' Horcrux - such as those created by storing a part of ones soul within a memory of ones self - to attempt to resurrect itself, id est, to become a fully corporeal being, whilst its 'real self' or the originator of its soul fragment still existed in fully corporeal form, then the Horcrux would destroy itself on the culmination of the process. Were such a process attempted whilst the originator of the soul fragment still exited in non-corporeal form, that is, were the Horcrux to attempt the resurrection process after the originator of its soul fragment lost their physical form through some means, then both the Horcrux and the originator of its soul fragment would most likely be destroyed on the culmination of the process...'_

Dumbledore's apparent lack of concern about the diary suddenly made sickening sense...

***

'If there is no other way, then use _my_ life to resurrect yourself.'

Ginny wrote the words slowly, the end of her quill a sodden mess where she had chewed and worried at it as she contemplated and reached her decision. She didn't expect Tom to agree without an argument, and she expected that his first argument against doing such a thing would be that she didn't understand what she was offering. She did. She had weighed his words carefully, and although many things she couldn't relate to through experience, she found herself understanding them on a more instinctive basis. True, she was only eleven, and the youngest, most 'sheltered' of the Weasley family; but that didn't mean she was naive or foolish. Ginny Weasley, though she would deny it any other time, frequently read the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler in the privacy of her room at home, and she knew her parents would often mention things in her hearing that they would consciously censor around her siblings, generally because she was that quiet they had forgotten she was there, or because they didn't think she would understand.

'No. Even if you _do_ know what you're offering, I do not think you have considered the wider effects of such a thing. How would your parents - who from your descriptions must love you very much - feel when they learn their daughter is dead?'

It was almost as if he had read her mind, accepting that she probably _had_ considered what she was offering and what that really meant. But she had to suppress a giggle of laughter at his attempt to appeal to her Gryffindor sense of nobility. Yes, she knew her parents and brothers would be devastated, and her friends would probably miss her, but they would move on with time. Besides, Gryffindor courage was very much the 'few for the many' ideology, and whilst her death might have a negative impact on her family and friends, they were the few compared to the many who could potentially benefit from Tom's dream for the wizarding world as a whole.

'What sort of dictator will you be if you cannot take an offered life to fulfil your dreams?'

***

Severus had, after giving Lucius the password to his private floo at Hogwarts, considered following the blond and avoiding the inevitable confrontation with Minerva for at least a little longer. However, knowing what he now knew, it was essential that he found Ginevra Weasley as quickly as possible, and Minerva _was_ the girl's Head of House. He was unsurprised, however, at the glower on the older woman's face as he stepped out of the fireplace and back into the Headmaster's office.

"Now that you're back Severus, you can tell me where, exactly, you just went in such a hurry and why." It was a command, not a question.

"Malfoy Manor to look up some information pertaining to the Chamber of Secrets." He answered succinctly, amused by the expression of distaste and confusion that crossed McGonagall's face, but wisely not showing it.

"And what, pray tell, have you discovered?" She sounded sceptical, as though he couldn't possibly have discovered anything if Albus Dumbledore hadn't. Irritation flickered in his eyes, but he suppressed it ruthlessly, opting instead for his more characteristic sarcasm.

"Except for what you told me - that it was opened fifty years ago - you mean?" He was surprised to see confusion on McGonagall's face, and he frowned, wondering...

"What? I didn't know that, so how could I have told you? Wait, it was opened fifty years ago?" His suspicions were confirmed as she continued to mutter to herself. "Surely Albus would have known something in that case, he _was_ the Transfigurations Professor then... So why did he tell me no one knew anything?" Minerva was looking more and more confused, but also as if she knew the answer were lurking at the back of her mind, just beyond recall...

***

He addressed Hogwarts in parsel-tongue, just as he always had. He knew he could probably achieve the same results using English, but this way there was no doubting that he was the Heir of Slytherin, and no one overhearing him would know what he was doing. Stepping back from the wall, he watched as blood seemed to ooze from the stone itself, forming a second indelible message below the first. He scowled as he considered that no one - except maybe Severus and Lucius - would truly understand the message as the proud memorial that it was; to spend eternity in such a sacred place as Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets...it was the least he could do to recognise Ginevra Weasley's gift to him.

Still frowning, he slipped inside the nearby disused bathroom, vanishing from sight just as Gilderoy Lockhart turned the corner...

***

"...Minerva!" She jolted out of her confused mutterings as he called her name for the second time. He didn't have time to nurse her through a breakdown once she realised just how she had been manipulated by her 'trusted mentor'. "To answer your question about the Chamber; I discovered nothing about the Chamber of Secrets in the Malfoy library. As for your sudden confusion, I suggest you pay Poppy a visit and ask her to check you for memory charms."

"Severus!" McGonagall sounded scandalised. "Are you suggesting that Albus used a memory charm on me?" Severus raised an eyebrow; she was quite well-versed in the after-effects, side-effects and general symptoms of memory charms, yet simply because of who was being accused of using it on her, she refused to believe it was possible. He was both impressed at the misguided loyalty Dumbledore had managed to inspire in her, and frustrated by her refusal to face the truth.

She opened her mouth - most likely to lecture him on all the reasons that a) such an accusation couldn't be true, and b) why he of all people shouldn't make such accusations in the first place - but whatever she had been about to say was interrupted as the office door slammed open and Gilderoy Lockhart, looking slightly frantic, rushed into the room.

***

"Another message Professor! A girl has been taken into the Chamber itself, and I fear she is doomed to be some kind of sacrifice!" Lockhart made his dramatic proclamation with an equally dramatic gesture of horror and despair.

From the still-open doorway came three strangled gasps of horror, followed by Ronald Weasley and his twin brothers.

"Professor McGonagall! It must be Ginny - she's missing!" Severus watched Minerva's expression tighten at Ron's declaration. He wondered just how they could be so certain that their sister was missing, and not just somewhere they hadn't looked for her, but since the facts fitted what he knew anyway, he didn't bother contesting their claim; it meant time was of the essence anyway if he was to reach the Chamber in time to prevent his Lord from destroying himself.

"Minerva, alert the rest of the staff and make sure the other students are safe." He snapped the command in a tone of voice that expected to be obeyed and Minerva, used to taking orders - albeit phrased as requests - from Dumbledore, was nodding agreement before she realised he had taken charge.

"Wait!" He paused, half-turning at the office door as McGonagall called after him. Her eyes flicked to the three Weasleys, and he knew she was attempting to phrase a query without alerting them that everything was not under control - _her_ control anyway. He tapped a foot impatiently before deciding that if he waited he might be too late; he had no idea how long it would take for his Lord to complete the resurrection process, nor when - if - the process had been started.

"I am going after Miss Weasley - I shall explain later Minerva." He whirled away in a flurry of robes, vaguely aware of McGonagall, in an attempt to seem in control of _something_, ordering the Weasleys back to Gryffindor Tower, and Lockhart - who had presumably excused himself so that he could hide in a closet somewhere whilst others did the dirty work - following him out of the office.

***

Lockhart congratulated himself on yet another brilliant plan. He would follow Snape, who _obviously_ knew where the Chamber of Secrets was, let him rescue the girl, and then alter their memories when they emerged. Snape would explain to McGonagall that he had revealed the location of the Chamber, but that he, Gilderoy Lockhart, had been the one to enter the Chamber and actually rescue poor Miss Weasley. Miss Weasley would back this story up of course, never realising that it had been Snape, not the dashing Lockhart, who had saved her from the monster.

There was though, he thought, watching Snape disappear down the corridor that led to the dungeons, a _slight_ problem with his plan. Slowly, highly aware that he didn't know _whose_ wand had just prodded him in the small of the back, Gilderoy Lockhart turned around...

***

Ron Weasley disliked Lockhart on the general argument that he was a stuck-up, pretentious, irritating, self-absorbed...well, the list went on, but mainly because he was an egotistical prat who seemed to be all talk and no actual ability - at least when it came to talking anyway. Fred and George, on the other hand, had a far more sinister theory behind the man's fame. They had actually _stopped_ pranking him the second week into term - simply because it was too easy - and thereafter had concluded that, if the events described in his books weren't lies in and of themselves, it sure as hell hadn't been Lockhart that had been the hero.

Lockhart was quite aware of this animosity - which was why he paled slightly on discovering who had caught him tailing Snape - although he was baffled as to its cause. But he was also aware that he had yet to speak to - or overhear - a student - other than the Slytherins of course - even hinting that they liked or trusted Professor Snape. This being the case, he immediately formed a cunning plan and beamed widely at the red-heads.

***

Ron couldn't understand why they were 'accompanying' Lockhart on 'his' quest to rescue Ginny. He had been all for stunning the prat and continuing after Snape using the twins map to stay at a safe distance. Gred and Forge, however, had held one of their silent conversations and, after Forge confiscated Lockhart's wand - something they didn't give him a choice about - Gred had agreed to Lockhart's suggestion that they join forces against Snape.

Lockhart, on the other hand, was quite pleased with the way things had gone. The twins had fallen for his trap; it didn't matter that they'd taken his own wand, if there was one thing Lockhart could truly lay claim to, it was his ability to use almost any wand, at least to cast memory charms. The twins themselves were still suspicious and holding themselves back, however their brother was not being so cautious, despite being more obvious with his dislike.

With Lockhart concentrating on the three Weasleys, Forge and Ron concentrating on Lockhart, and Gred concentrating on the map, none of them noticed as they stepped over a thin line of blood on the floor...a thin line that continued round to form a circle...

***

"Sibi devincire itaque se subducere vigor." Snape's voice seemed to come from all around them, Gred realising too late that the Potions Master had somehow vanished from the map...

***

Severus closed his eyes as he felt the stolen energy rushing into him. He had debated, for the barest moment, taking their lives instead - who would miss Lockhart and a few Weasleys? - just to feel the incredible rush that came with killing. But he had judged, once more, that whilst the short-term benefits were tempting, the long-term implications were nowhere near worth it. Besides, there would be opportunities aplenty for him to kill again once the Dark Lord returned and Dumbledore was destroyed.

Hurrying once more towards the Head of Slytherin's entrance into the Chamber - this time utilising the unplottable secret passageways at his disposal - he spared a moment to hope that he survived to see the Dark Lord's triumph...

***

Tom wasn't sure how long they had been in the Chamber, or how long Ginny had been pouring her soul, literally, into the diary...into him. It seemed like hours since she had slowly stopped talking and, with a smile, slipped into unconsciousness, but in reality he was sure it had only been a minute, if that. He was vulnerable until the process was complete though, well, more vulnerable than he would be when he was whole and able to use magic once more, so when he heard a door scrape open - not the one he had entered through or had even known existed - he instantly went on the defensive.

"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four." He hissed the words in parsel-tongue, hearing them echo portentously around the Chamber, hearing the footsteps stop...

"As Head of Slytherin House I command you, sleep, until the True Heir returns." Tom whirled as Severus' voice rang clearly through the Chamber, sinister in its lack of echo, an expression of surprised betrayal on his face.

"Severus?" He suppressed a wince at the emotion in his voice; clearly he needed to spend a good deal of time around some fellow Slytherins to balance out Ginny's Gryffindor influences. "Why?" This time the question came out more as he had intended.

"My apologies my Lord, but I discovered some information of utmost importance; you _must not_ resurrect yourself!" Tom's thoughts whirled in confusion, the emotion in Severus' voice enough to convince him that the other man was sincere.

"Explain, quickly - if I am to believe you and stop this we do not have much time. The process is not taking as long as I had expected, perhaps because she is willingly giving her life for mine..." He trailed off, realising he was delaying any explanations by urging speed.

"Lord, you are no mere recorded memory - you are something more; a Horcrux, a memory imbued with a fragment of your 'real self's' soul. Dumbledore must have realised this when he tore the knowledge of what was going on from my mind. He is willing to allow the death of a student because when you complete the resurrection process you will destroy both yourself and your discorporated 'real self'." Tom's eyes opened wide at the explanation. Severus, whom he knew from Lucius was a master Occlumens, was wide open, his honesty plain to see.

"You broke free of Dumbledore's control..." He breathed in realisation, already focussing on how the process could be reversed to return Ginny's life-force to her.

"At a high price that I may not live to pay." Severus agreed. "How do we reverse the process?" There were no formal addresses now, not from any lack of respect, but rather in favour of expediency.

"Stop the blood entering the diary, cut one of the pages and let the ink flow back into her wound; heal us both once I am drawn back into the diary." Snape nodded, already bending over Ginny's unconscious form, itself slumped over the diary with a wrist pressed firmly into the central crease. As he gently pulled her arm away he could see that she had not done a professional job of slitting her wrist, opting for a crossways cut that was easier to set on the diary rather than the lengthways cut that would have ensured a faster blood flow. He was grateful, the sluggish flow of blood suggested that he would have arrived too late to prevent disaster had she cut lengthways.

Drawing slim knife - one of the 'clean' blades rather than a poisoned one - from a boot-sheath, he quickly and carefully cut into the diary, deliberately placing the cut near the edge of the page so that it was easier to direct the ink that began flowing. He couldn't help but shoot an apologetic look at his Lord, but the Dark Lord had his back turned, hiding his expression. Looking back to the task at hand, Severus carefully held the diary so that the ink it was bleeding dripped directly onto Ginny's slit wrist.

The ink mingled with the blood that was still attempting to well up from the cut, only surface tension keeping it from running down her arm. Wondering if something had gone wrong, if he had been _just_ too late after all, Severus looked up at the Dark Lord again. When the memory nodded at him he looked down again, finding that not only had the blood ceased flowing from the wound, but the ink was now flowing _into_ the wound. He wondered what such a transfer would mean, both for the diary Horcrux _and_ for Ginevra Weasley...

"She will need protecting from Dumbledore, and possibly from her own family." Tom could feel himself becoming less solid as time passed and the ink - and life-force - ran back into Ginny. "I do not know how this will affect her, it may be that she gains some defence against Legilimency, but if she does not, you will need to lock her true memories away where Dumbledore cannot get at them - he should be all to willing to believe false memories that support his view of her." Snape glanced up at him and nodded, quickly returning his gaze and concentration to keeping the ink dripping onto the wound.

"Lucius is waiting to remove the memories I have that could be of any use to Dumbledore - he can explain 'puppet' to you my Lord." Tom realised the implications of Severus' words with a chill. His eyes widened as he wondered at the depth of loyalty he had inspired in the Potions Master that the man was willing to go so far for him.

"My devoted follower..." The whispered words were accompanied by the ghostly brush of a hand against his face, and Severus looked up in surprise, just in time to see the memory of the Dark Lord fade and vanish back into the diary. Remembering his instructions, Severus quickly drew his wand, casting a standard healing charm on Ginevra's wrist before casting the Dark version of the same spell on the diary. Filled with the stolen energy from the three Weasley brothers and Lockhart, he barely even felt the drain of the spell, and it was with some incredularity that he realised, once upon a time, he had been so used to this buzz within his veins that he had barely even registered its presence. Had he been under Dumbledore's thumb that long?

As he slipped the diary into a pocket of his robes, Severus couldn't help but wonder how long his freedom would last; how long it would be before Dumbledore returned to leash him once more. It was so, so tempting - take the diary, modify the Weasley girl's memory, and run to Lucius and Narcissa. They, he knew, would understand. But he also knew that he had - despite every Slytherin instinct screaming at him to get out _now_ - to see this through.

It was no boast to say that he was the best qualified of the Trinity to do what was required. Narcissa was neither a Legilimens nor an Occlumens, and whilst Lucius was a Legilimens, he was not an Occlumens, and though an expert at scheming and manipulating, those on whom he practised his wiles were usually cowed by the Malfoy name - and its implications - beforehand.

Severus, on the other hand, had worked his way through the ranks of the Death Eaters the hard way, the Slytherin way, the way where a mistake - no matter how slight - meant death. Only once he had reached the fringes of the Outer Circle had Lucius and Narcissa been able to openly add their support, their patronage. That in itself had brought him to the Dark Lord's attention, but it was his potions skills that had then ensured his acceptance straight into the Inner Circle itself.

There were many, still, who held a grudge against him for his leap; not that they dared act openly against him, oh no, he had seen to that with a few well-chosen 'examples'...

Shaking himself free of the memories - there was still much to be done after all - he set about rousing Ginevra Weasley.

***

Minerva wasn't sure, in a world that had suddenly and inexplicably gone mad, what - or who - she could believe any more. Having alerted the rest of the school to the danger, and what they were to do, she had set out for the Hospital Wing, intent on knowing for certain whether her memory had been tampered with, and if possible, by whom. What she had not expected was to come across the unconscious - but thankfully otherwise unharmed, or so it seemed - forms of the three youngest Weasley brothers, and Gilderoy Lockhart...

***

Ginny wasn't quite sure what was happening when she opened her eyes. The last thing she remembered was talking to the still-misty form of Tom, feeling exhaustion and cold creeping over her as everything went dark. She assumed that either something had gone wrong and she had begun to recover, or...what? Surely this couldn't be what came after death? Had she become a ghost? No...she could feel the cold grit of the Chamber's floor against her cheek, a vague throb from her wrist - presumably where she had slit it... The diary was gone - maybe Tom had escaped but thought her dead?

She could hear too, not that there was much to hear; a drip of water somewhere off in the distance, a faint rustle that sounded teasingly like robes but had to be the Basilisk moving in her sleep... A faint smell of...something...teased at her senses, her memory... Why did it feel that she should recognise that scent, that it should be familiar?

"How are you feeling Miss Weasley?" The voice, deep and dark as its owner startled her into full awakeness, the pieces of the puzzle snapping into place. The sound _was_ robes, the scent - that of potions - so familiar from potions lessons with this very Professor!

"Tom?" She asked anxiously, rolling over so that she could look up at Snape where he knelt next to her. His face was as emotionless as ever, but she thought he was faintly amused that her concern was for the Dark Lord and not herself.

"Safe, though it was a close thing - we nearly lost all three of you to Dumbledore's scheming." Ginny blinked. Either he was talking about himself in third person or...

"Three of us?" She stared at him, waiting for an answer, but also puzzled by what her instincts were telling her - this wasn't Professor Snape...at least, not the Snape _she_ knew... Frowning, not realising that she had stopped listening to Snape explaining about the diary being a Horcrux and all that meant, Ginny cast her mind back to all that Tom had told her about Snape being under the control of Dumbledore...

***

"...need to modify your memories - for your own safety. They can be restored at a later date when Dumbledore is no longer a threat." Snape stopped speaking, wondering how much of what he'd said had actually registered with the distracted girl. It was odd, to a degree, that she had accepted his presence so easily, yet he supposed it must have been something to do with the strange rapport she seemed to have developed with the Dark Lord's conscious Horcrux...

"You got free of Dumbledore!" The happy exclamation broke into his thoughts, shattering them completely and leaving him blinking at Ginny in surprise.

"How much did the Dark Lord tell you?" He wondered aloud, startling himself again when he realised what he'd done. He was certain there were no enchantments on the youngest Weasley, so why did he feel the same secure compulsion to be honest with her that he did when writing in the diary? He knew _that_ was enchanted rather heavily. It wasn't a new thing either, he realised, recalling that in her potions lessons she was one of the few Gryffindors whose work he marked with a scrupulous honesty normally reserved for Ravenclaws.

"Everything." She replied, mood changing in a flash from happy to sombre. "But I can't keep those memories, not whilst Dumbledore is a threat." He wondered whether that flash of insight had been reached on her own, or whether, on some level, she had heard the earlier explanation he had given her. "I trust you..." She hesitated.

"Severus." He supplied, realising that he really didn't mind if she used his given name. "In private you may call me Severus." Her smile lit up her eyes and he was reminded, suddenly, of Narcissa's smile when he had been formally accepted into the Inner Circle... Could it be? He would check - he _had_ to check - because if she _was_...that would be _far_ too dangerous an ability to have around Dumbledore. If he could suppress it though, it would not harm her - in fact, any such abilities shouldn't have manifested at this age anyway - and it could be restored, along with her memories, when it was safe - or safer - to do so.

"Then, I trust you, Severus." Wondering what other surprises this most-unlikely of the Dark Lord's supporters might yet hold, Severus began the painstaking task of modifying her memories...

***

Poppy Pomfrey, as Hogwarts resident Medi-Witch, was bound by several oaths that ensured the privacy and confidentiality of any information about or given to her by her patients. She was protected, by those selfsame oaths, from anyone - or anything - who might attempt to use magic to manipulate her into revealing those secrets to someone who had no right to know. Of course, whilst this meant she knew _exactly_ what the real relationship between Dumbledore and Severus Snape was, it also meant that there was nothing she could do about it except patch the Potions Master up when he was too injured to treat himself.

She had recognised the symptoms of the three students and Lockhart - she refused to acknowledge the fool as a Professor, he'd even had the gall to think he could advise her on _her_ job - as the results of Dark magic; Dark blood-magic, and there was only one person in the school both capable and _willing_ to use such a spell. She wondered whether there was any particular reason McGonagall had levitated four unconscious bodies - they merely needed plenty of rest to allow their energy levels to recover naturally - rather than four corpses, but she suspected that Severus, if he _had_ managed to break free of Dumbledore's control, had some larger plan that meant he needed to stay at Hogwarts.

When he walked into the Hospital Wing, levitating an unconscious Ginevra Weasley, she knew for certain that he had broken free of Dumbledore. The changes were subtle, but as a Medi-Witch she was trained to look for the subtle changes - they were the early indicators that sometimes meant the difference between life and death with magical illnesses. No one except Severus saw the pleased, but regretful - Dumbledore was likely to come as close as he ever had to killing the Potions Master in revenge for this latest 'infraction' - smile she shot at him, and she was half-certain she imagined the flash of realisation and bare nod of recognition he gave her in return before setting Ginny gently onto an empty bed.

"Minerva asked me to tell you she wishes to talk to you - she's in the first private room." Severus didn't respond - not that she had expected him to, he would have a lot on his mind at the moment anyway - but as she began to fuss over Ginevra, she was surprised to hear his stride pause and then return towards her.

"Is there any way you can let me know if Dumbledore...interferes with Miss Weasley in any way..." His voice was low, pitched carefully for her ears alone. Poppy wondered at his concern for a student who was not a Slytherin, was, in fact, a _Gryffindor_, but she didn't pry, mind racing to find an answer to his question. It was something she had pondered before, whether there was a loophole of some sort within the medical oaths of the wizarding world, so much more binding than the muggle world; both for better and worse. Slowly the answer came to her. 

"You hold certificates for both basic Healing and advanced Neural diagnostics and treatments, don't you." Severus nodded, expression neither revealing comprehension nor confusion. "If I believe something has been done to Miss Weasley that may be of concern then I may be able to ask your opinion and discuss her case on a professional basis." Poppy didn't care if she sounded smug, she felt it; Dumbledore would not be pleased if he somehow discovered her deception, but she was safe from his retaliation, and Severus wouldn't have asked if he wasn't prepared to face the consequences himself.

"Thank you Poppy - I'll make sure the standard healing potions are more vile-tasting than normal." She couldn't help but chuckle at that - it was something she had devised long before Severus had become the Potions Master, make the cure worse than the injury and students were less likely to fake illness outright, or come to her with truly trivial matters in an attempt to avoid lessons. It hadn't been until Severus took over the Potions position that she had found someone who both agreed with her methods and was capable of implementing them. Still chuckling slightly, she went back to assessing Ginevra Weasley's condition as the Potions Master headed silently towards the private room where Minerva was waiting to speak to him.

***

Minerva wasn't sure what she was going to say to Severus when - if - he deigned to come and speak to a foolish old woman like her. He had known, had seen past his own loyalty to Dumbledore, and had forced her to do the same. Albus had deliberately concealed her memories, and not, so Poppy said, for the first time. She had debated, long and hard, over whether to allow the Medi-Witch to remove the block - only her most recently lost memories were, so Poppy had informed her, retrievable, the rest blocked too long ago to be released without causing further, potentially fatal harm. It had been her need to try and resolve Albus' reasons that had swayed her into asking for the block to be removed...

She still didn't understand. _Why_ did he think it necessary to let her think no one knew what was going on? What use did her ignorance serve?

"Your morals posed a threat to his plans at the time, just as your realisations now will pose a threat to his future plans." Minerva jumped, having neither realised Severus had entered the room nor that she had spoken her thoughts aloud.

"His plans...?" She whispered, Severus' words sinking in. The Potions Master nodded.

"I wasn't certain at the time, but he was behind the petrifications, albeit indirectly. I was his unwilling accomplice, I admit, but his plans unravelled on him when I was able to say under Veritaserum that I didn't petrify any of the students - or other Hogwarts residents - who had been found."

"Why are you telling me this now?" Minerva asked, looking suspicious. Severus shrugged, mentally cautioning himself to ease off on the inferences against Dumbledore.

"You'd reason it out yourself soon enough - if I give you the answers to the questions you might have taken to the Headmaster...well, if you think because you know what he's done he won't do it again..." He watched the realisation sink in, wondered idly if McGonagall would ever _truly_ understand what kind of man her beloved Headmaster really was.

"Be careful. I doubt I will be myself after the Headmaster returns." With that cryptic warning he left, leaving McGonagall once more wondering who and what she could really trust...

***

"Change of plans." Lucius jumped up out of the chair, wand already in hand, before rationality kicked in to inform him that, not only was it Severus' voice, but only Severus could have entered the way he did - seemingly through the wall itself. He was putting his wand away as the younger man's words actually registered and he nearly dropped it in surprise, much to Severus' amusement.

"That is _not_ something I wanted to hear." Lucius groaned, not reassured in the slightest by the breezy wave of his hand that Severus gave. It seemed that every minute out from under Dumbledore's control the younger man was becoming more and more like himself, the Severus who had risen through the ranks of the Death Eaters like a true snake; adaptable, manipulative, with a sly and evil sense of humour, as well as deadly venomous bite for those he considered enemies...

***

It was more painful than he had expected, leaving Severus behind, knowing how vulnerable the younger man now was. But, he had to admit, the modification that the Potions Master had suggested reduced some of the dangers considerably...it also increased others, but he had no doubt that, were Dumbledore to actually break into the parts of Severus' memory that they had sealed off and fortified against access, the old fool would merely trigger a mental trap of some kind.

The thought wasn't as comforting as it might have been. He couldn't help but let his mind drift through ever worse scenarios, trying to prepare for the worst, but unable to decide what, exactly, the worst would be. He supposed that, were anything to happen to either kill or otherwise remove Severus from the fight, the other man would be happy as long as he had struck a blow against Dumbledore as he went. It was still sparse comfort.

His fingers traced over the spine of the diary as he strode towards the gates that marked the end of Hogwarts apparition boundaries. Quite what the implications of events in the Chamber were wouldn't, he suspected, be known for quite a while. Almost certain, however, was the fact that the Horcrux could no longer, technically be called a 'mere' Horcrux, or even a 'mere' conscious Horcrux. By willingly sharing her life-force and being prepared to give her life to resurrect the Dark Lord, Ginevra Weasley had unwittingly mixed her own soul with the fraction of the Dark Lord's soul that resided in the diary. Quite what had happened to both souls when the process was reversed...well, he was no scholar in that field.

As he apparated away, he wondered whether Narcissa might be able to shed some insight on the whole thing...

***

To say he was furious would have been such a gross understatement as to almost make it a lie; Dumbledore's anger and frustration had been very nearly physical, and he had actually lost control of his magic, destroying, _obliterating_, everything in the study of his manor. The destruction of several files of information not duplicated anywhere else, along with the loss of several penseives of information he'd torn from Severus' mind but still hadn't had the chance to sort through, hadn't improved matters.

He couldn't believe the nerve of this new group - the one he believed was concealing Harry Potter for unknown reasons. It did, however, confirm his suspicions that at least some of their members were staff at Hogwarts; it was the only way the Chamber of Secrets refused to reveal its location to him. All he had been able to glean from Hogwarts was that there was no part of the school that even remotely resembled the sort of area in which one could house a Basilisk, especially for hundreds of years. Of course, he had learned from Severus' mind that the Potions Master 'suspected' there was an entrance only parselmouths could use as well as an entrance only the Heads of Slytherin could use - the locations of both had been lost with the destroyed pensieves.

They also had to be the ones who had freed the Potions Master from his spell - he'd felt the 'leash' literally snap - which had in turn freed Severus to somehow learn about Horcruxes in time to prevent Voldemort from destroying himself.

All in all, even after having used a time-turner to give himself some time in which to calm down - he still had to deal with the Weasleys - and think everything through, Dumbledore was still frustrated and angry. The year's plans had gone to waste, and it would potentially take much of the next year to straighten everything out. He had to revise everything, his test of Miss Granger would have to wait until the year after next...hmm, that would fit, he could place her name in the Goblet of Fire and ensure that it was drawn, as a magical contract it was binding and no one else would be able to force her out. She might need some slight assistance, but he doubted she would need much, a pass into the restricted section of the library perhaps, a few hints from other students, not much more certainly.

Pleased that _something_ good had come out of the whole fiasco, Dumbledore contemplated what he would have to do before then; find as much about this new power in the war as he could, teach Severus a lesson in obedience - he _would_ break the Potions Master, or kill him trying - and re-leash him at the same time, find a new defence teacher - perhaps a competent one this time - to replace Lockhart... A multitude of little tasks mainly.

He smiled, no emotion reaching his cold blue eyes. He could take Lucius down a peg or two as well; without the authority of being a governor he could no longer waltz into Hogwarts as he wished, or on the flimsiest of excuses. He would also, he realised suddenly, have to send a note to Fudge to have Hagrid returned from Azkaban. It would probably have been simpler to find a...less controversial Professor for the post, but he couldn't think of anyone else so simplistically loyal and who made such a convenient scapegoat. Plus he might be useful if it became necessary to negotiate with the Giants.

Grinning now, the expression in no way friendly, Dumbledore reached out for a quill and parchment. He would set Hagrid's release in motion, summon the Weasleys to Hogwarts, and then return to the school himself.

***

Severus knew that delaying making the Corpo Renovita potion was merely delaying the inevitable. Dumbledore would have his revenge, his pound of flesh, sooner or later, and whilst he considered himself able to withstand a great deal of pressure, the anticipation of what the Headmaster might do _was_ getting to him. He had never really considered himself to be very imaginative, but it seemed all he required was motivation; his mind was doing quite well conjuring up variations of past punishments whilst he stirred the cauldron's simmering contents...

***

As the Weasleys, Molly comforting a sobbing and penitent Ginny, left his office, Dumbledore wondered again how he had failed to notice what had been going on. He suspected it had to be the Phantoms, as he had dubbed them, at least temporarily. But it had also narrowed down his list of potential traitors within his own ranks. Disturbingly the list, which was very short, included Minerva McGonagall - who knew both of the Prophecy and the Potter boy's disappearance; it also included Filius Flitwick and Irma Pince.

Ginny Weasley herself, well, he had briefly considered that she might have known exactly what she was doing, but the lightest touch of Legilimency had told him that she wasn't acting or lying about what had happened. That being the case, he had concluded that she had merely been an unwitting pawn; it seemed he was not the only one who believed the Weasleys could afford to lose a few family members.

***

It was done. The Corpo Renovita potion had been made, cooled, bottled and delivered to Poppy in the Hospital Wing. He presumed that it had, by now, been administered successfully to the six victims - they had tested with water, and it seemed that potions would indeed work on a ghost, if the ghost had been petrified beforehand anyway.

Now all he could do was wait, and pace, and try _not_ to imagine what Dumbledore might do to him. His mind would be attacked; that was almost a certainty considering Dumbledore would know by now just how he was hiding information, not to mention that the Headmaster would be most eager to ensure he was back under a much firmer control that before. He wondered what would happen when Dumbledore, as he would, discovered that he no longer knew anything of use?

***

Narcissa had warned him that it would do no good, but Lucius couldn't help it. He _had_ to make sure Dumbledore knew he was being watched, that the slightest physical harm to Severus that could be traced back to him would be. If he could put the bastard on the defensive there was a chance that he might be more cautious about taking his frustrations out on the Potions Master.

He didn't bother to mask his anger, even allowing his magic to slip a little, a crackling, menacing aura around his figure. Those students he passed literally jumped out of his path, but he barely even saw them. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, he was aware that he was allowing his anger to overrule his reason, but...Narcissa would have stopped him from coming had she thought he would make things worse...wouldn't she?

His sudden doubt cooled his anger abruptly, and he brought his magic back under control - he still ignored the students who moved aside from his path though. Perhaps, no, there was no perhaps, rushing in blinded by anger _would_ be the actions of a fool, and it would also convince Dumbledore that Severus could be used to control him in some way. Now more than ever, Lucius needed the Malfoy facade intact; he would detect any attempt at Legilimency on Dumbledore's part, being a Legilimens himself gave him that much, but he was no Occlumens, and he didn't need the Headmaster picking up even random thoughts, not least because he wouldn't know which thoughts had been seen.

The gargoyle leapt aside at his approach, something that surprised him, as he was well aware that he was no longer a governor. Had Dumbledore...no, this couldn't be Dumbledore's doing, Hogwarts was capable of recognising people on its own, that much he knew about the castle. So, why did it still permit him access?

He wondered at this as he rode the staircase upwards to Dumbledore's office, barely aware that the last of his anger had been successfully diffused, or that the Malfoy facade - actually a minor Occlumency-like shield - had dropped smoothly into place. Neither of these things, however, stopped him from slamming the office door open with a force that made it rebound back against his outstretched hand. Dumbledore _would_ know that he was displeased - if not _why_...

***

Albus Dumbledore was, though he would never have admitted it, both surprised and confused by Lucius' dramatic entrance. Not by the door slamming - though a part of his mind noted that the elder Malfoy was clearly not happy, probably at his return - but by the fact that the other man had reached the door without being stopped by the Gargoyle... He was no longer a governor, he had made sure of _that_ before he returned, and even had someone told him the password, the Gargoyle should still have sent a warning ahead...

"Lucius, what brings you here?" He stalled for time, having already guessed that Lucius was there to demand the same question of him. Could it be that the Phantoms had turned even Hogwarts itself against him? Who were they to wield such power, such authority? Descendents of the Founders themselves? No...he had taken care to trace every last possible blood descendent of those four. Only two had descendents that were marked as magical - Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor...

"I see you have returned, despite being removed by the board." Lucius responded with a sneer, answering the question by posing his own within the single statement. Dumbledore watched the way the other man's gaze skipped around the room, noticing how he avoided making eye contact for more than a moment. Yes, Voldemort would have warned his lieutenant long ago that Legilimency required prolonged eye contact.

"I see you waltz in as though you were still on that board." Dumbledore didn't miss the slight flinch. It seemed Lucius had either failed to plan for that contingency, or his planning had crumbled and failed to come to fruition. The blond shrugged, suddenly seeming intently interested in the portrait of Phineas Nigellus.

"As a concerned parent I came to see why someone deemed unfit to be Headmaster has seemingly returned to his post. I would hate to know that you were going to chase phantoms again whilst more innocent children were petrified." It was Dumbledore's turn to start in surprise. Had that been a deliberate 'slip', or was it merely a coincidental turn of phrase? His gaze on the younger man sharpened; a true master of Legilimency only needed a brief moment of eye contact to begin the process, although even a light shield would defeat the attempt...

***

Lucius turned, his eyes briefly meeting Dumbledore's...

***

He didn't even need to incant the spell, didn't need to make any sort of betraying gesture, just concentrated, sending his mind out with the tendril of magic, touching, sensing the ebb and flow of surface thoughts in the blond's mind, reaching out...and sliding off a cool, unfeeling barrier...

Lucius smirked.

"Dear, dear... Just what were you attempting _there_, Albus?" The blond's voice was soft, oil-slick and so, so smug. Dumbledore's thoughts were reeling - how long had Malfoy been a Legilimens, or an Occlumens for that matter?

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about now, Lucius - are you feeling quite well? A cup of tea perhaps?" He asked cheerfully. It was a bluff, and they both knew it. Lucius' lips curled upwards at the edges, an expression that might have been called a smile had it not been for the lack of emotion.

"I may no longer be a governor, but I _will_ be watching you; dead men, ghosts, _can_ tell tales you know." Dumbledore felt a cold chill run down his spine. He was suddenly certain that the blond's earlier reference to phantoms _hadn't_ been a coincidence.

"Well then, I hope they tell you that I'd like socks for Christmas." Dumbledore muttered, barely even trying to disguise the bluff with false cheer this time.

***

Lucius could tell he'd well and truly rattled the Headmaster, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out how. It had been an educated guess, when he'd caught the flinch after he'd mentioned chasing phantoms, that Dumbledore was up to something and thought Lucius knew. But quite what that something really was...Lucius was clueless.

Satisfied with what he had achieved anyway, and well aware that continuing to play games with Dumbledore - especially when he didn't know anything except that he was bluffing with nothing to back his bluff up - would probably be counter-productive, Lucius whirled and stalked back out of the office. Narcissa would be pleased that he had held his temper in after all, and perhaps she might have heard something to hint at whatever he'd done to spook Dumbledore. In fact, he thought contentedly, barely noticing the Gargoyle leap out of his path once more, Dumbledore might be that off-balance that he wasn't as harsh on Severus as he might otherwise have been...

***

Lucius' intentions might have been noble, but he had yet to realise that they had, in fact, backfired, because Dumbledore was indeed thinking of Severus. He was thinking of Severus and Lucius' relationship, and that if there was anyone who would know just what Lucius knew about the Phantoms, it would be the Potions Master. Conveniently, Severus was also due to be taught a lesson, and no one would question not seeing the man - well, aside from the Slytherins, but they would no doubt assume their Head of House was engrossed in making a potion - at the leaving feast.

Plastering a fake expression of cheerfulness on his face, Dumbledore headed for the dungeons...

***

It was Narcissa who caught Severus' battered and bloody form as it stumbled, unannounced, through the main fireplace.

It was Narcissa who, deceptively strong for her appearance, carried him through Malfoy Manor cradled in her arms and laid him on the master bed.

And it was Narcissa who, with a tenderness few knew she possessed, washed the blood away and treated his physical injuries; his mental injuries she could do nothing about.

It was Lucius who, on seeing Severus' injuries for the first time, before they were cleaned, quietly went into his office and had a breakdown, cursing himself for not listening to his wife's advice - something she never gave misleadingly.

It was Lucius who, after the physical injuries had been treated, sat by Severus' side for day after day, talking and apologising, and begging him to return to them from wherever he had retreated within his mind.

And it was Lucius who, when Severus finally opened his eyes, kissed the younger man so deeply there could be no doubts about the way he felt, before swearing that, if he were ever injured so badly again, the plan could go fuck itself, but he would not let Severus within Dumbledore's reach again; it was Lucius who healed the mental injuries.

But Severus, once again, knew that he had to return, to be an 'obedient puppet', and he knew, in his gut, that surviving a year, two years, three - however long it took - might be impossible. For the time being though, the summer, he could remain with Lucius and Narcissa, and things could be as close to the past as they could get...

***

AN: eh, right, that can end on that note then... Slightly different twist at the end than I'd planned, but I reckon people can imagine Dumbledore being nasty enough to Snape without me attempting to be even more evil to the poor guy. Oh and hey, look - I updated! I _am_ alive! Okay, so anyone reading my bio from time to time would know that... I'll shut up now and let people read more interesting waffle...   
By-the-by, the actual 'story' word count breaks 32,000 words

AN: 'It's hardly human transfiguration' - since human transfiguration is supposed to be very hard, I used this as the wizarding equivalent of 'It's not rocket science' *grins*   
Snape's Dark blood-magic incantation in translation:   
'Sibi devincire' - Latin, 'gain a hold over' - this activates the blood circle and traps whoever is inside it at the time.   
'itaque' - Latin, 'and so'   
'se subducere' - Latin, 'steal away'   
'vigor' - Latin, 'energy' - had Severus used 'vita' (Latin, 'life') here instead of 'vigor' it would have killed whoever was inside the blood circle as well as boosting Severus' energy.   
As usual, if anyone wants to correct any grammatical massacres, please feel free.

AN: a list and description of all the potions, creatures/people, items and spells that belong to me, in order of appearance: 

**Vita Mora potion** - duplicates the petrification effect of an indirectly seen Basilisk's gaze to the point where the difference cannot be detected without the use of specialised spells or potions. Restricted potion due to its effects, risks and Dark ingredients.   
**Corpo Renovita potion** - reverses the petrification effect of an indirectly seen Basilisk's gaze. One of its ingredients is Mandrake.   
**Vita Renovita potion** - counters the Vita Mora potion. Restricted potion due to its risks and Dark ingredients.   
**Esmeralda Lloyd** - Ravenclaw pureblood, feel free to steal.   
**Woadwort** - small silver/grey moss-like plant, when crushed produces a blue dye once used by the Celts and known as 'woad'. Is usually crushed when used in potions, although can also be finely or coarsely chopped. Potions with woadwort in them, on exploding, tend to leave 'blue' aftereffects.

AN: this paragraph is where I apologise profusely for the long wait for this chapter and waffle about the process of writing that went into it, so if you don't wanna hear it, skip to the review responses below or go leave a review yourself! Ahem, yes, well, as I said at the beginning, this chapter really, _really_ did not want to be written. In hindsight I probably started out the wrong way by reading the book as I was writing; this resulted in failure #01 - Chamber of Secrets, revised by Zephyr5 from the novel by J.K.Rowling. Obviously by the time I reached about chapter two I realised a) it was going nowhere fast, and b) it was horribly different in style to, well, anything I've written, but mainly the rest of Corvine. I'd done revisions of scenes - such as Malfoy in Borgin and Burkes - that I liked, however, so for take #02 I tried keeping those and writing around them...didn't work, at all. I went back to the drawing board (or the notepad) and looked at the resources I have for Corvine and Serpentine - all the background stuff you lot don't get to see - and managed, in what was either a moment of genius or a moment of madness, to spot a glaring error in the timeline; yup, nothing to do with the actual writing of the chapter at all, but it did result in a slight revision of one of the chapters of Serpentine - I hate the academic year...   
The timeline incident did, however, give me an idea; plan out the sequence of events in the actual book in relation to the timeline Serpentine and the first couple of chapters of Corvine had set up. Then mentally work through what might happen if Harry wasn't there. I already knew I was going to use Dumbledore and Snape to set up the Basilisk attacks, although I hadn't thought about that in much more detail (and didn't until I got there and suddenly realised I needed a reason for Snape to be able to disobey Dumbledore without Dumbledore realising, which led to the revelation with the Dark Mark and Horcruxes), and I knew I wasn't going to have someone else be a parselmouth. Other things also cropped up as I worked my way through: would the Weasleys still miss the Express and have to take the Ford Anglia? Why? How? What sort of role was Lockhart going to play? And so on.   
The muses eventually decided they were going to cooperate, and the chapter got started. For the third time. When I hit a fifth of the way through the book's timeline and was over 10,000 words however, I realised I was _still_ doing something wrong. There were scenes - in particular the Weasleys arrival in the Ford Anglia - that, whilst funny, were just taking too long to play out. There was a hell of a lot of writing in that scene, purely so Snape could have a monologue, get insulted by Ron and promptly make Ron's evening more hellish than he might otherwise have done. Even after I fixed the length and verbiage issues I didn't have a 'fixed' plot (not that I ever do). Points to anyone who noticed the blatant setup near the beginning for an ending much more like the book's with Lockhart getting obliviated - if Snape hadn't managed to shake Dumbledore's leash (and if I'd remembered that particular piece of foreshadowing ><) then that might well have happened, as it was, Snape escaped and we get a brief glimpse of the '_real_' Severus Snape.   
Of course, whilst all the creative mental shennanigans were going on, Real Life was also going on. I'm a University student, which meant a ton of work during term, and I only had about a month of summer holiday before I ended up on a full-time short-term contract; in real terms this meant rising at 5am, to get ready to catch a train at 7am, to get to the city for 8:15am, to get to the bus stop for 8:30am, to get to work for 9am (it took me a week to wonder why the hell I was doing this). Work was from 9am to 5pm, at which time the process was reversed with me getting home at about 7pm, eating a meal, working on Corvine for a couple of hours, and then going to bed at around 10pm. The answer to 'why', by the way, was the pay...it was _very_ good considering it was my first 'on the payroll' job. That contract was two months. Did I get a break then? Ha! The Friday I finished I got to pack all my stuff up and spend the weekend moving some sixty-odd miles so that I could start working (I'm on a placement year) 9-5 again on the Monday!   
There's probably a ton of other stuff I could go on to mention, about RL and the thoughts behind the story, but I'll spare you - unless someone asks anyway ;) So, here's to Chapter 5, at long last, and hoping that Chapter 6 is much shorter and faster (I'm not holding my breath though)!

Woo, to the review responses!

_Serpentine Chapter 1   
Never Odd Or eveN_: I'm glad you like it. Thanks for adding me to your c2, and thanks for the review!

_Serpentine Chapter 3   
nitwittie_: yes, well, I'm still not quite sure it's sunk in that I wrote that...one of those things that just happened I think... lol, anyway, yes, very dark Harry - although really not that dark if you consider he grew up with a completely different moral/value code - and _definitely_ very hot! *whispers* don't let Voldie catch you saying that though...I'm not which of the two is more possessive...

_Irihi Safaia_: yeah, it was such a cool one I couldn't help but take it up. Thanks for the review - and for adding me to your favourites, I can't believe how many people have done that for Serpentine _and_ Corvine...

_MydridFox09_: wow, I'm glad you liked it so much; this is the 'more' to Serpentine, but no, Serpentine itself has ended - anything else is entirely up to your imagination ;) Thanks for the review!

_GarnettVII_: lol, yeah, pretty darn original huh? I think that was one of the things that attracted me to the challenge so much. Voldemort trying to deal with teenage Harry/Hades lmao - I start giggling when I even _think_ of that scene, although there were a couple in this that had me close...*sniggers* Severus getting caught in the Malfoy wards; that scene was so nearly an excuse to completely embarrass Lucius lmao. Thanks for the review :)

_L.A. dreamer_: Nope, no further chapters for Serpentine - it does mention this at the end of Serpentine's third chapter... I don't have a conclusion all worked out for what happens after Dumbledore's defeat, although a sense of how things _might_ go is what Corvine is all about, it's showing the different influences at work on the light side, so certain people you'll almost definitely be able to go 'oh yes, they'll join Voldemort', others will be a case of 'they're so going to form a resistance group', and then there'll be the ones in the middle, where it'll be your opinion of the character that decides what you think they'll do. Life has no beginning or ends, Serpentine/Corvine has _a_ beginning, but the end? Thanks for reviewing!

_Lady-Treason_: I'm afraid Serpentine doesn't continue beyond this point except in the minds of the readers; even I don't know what happens afterwards except in the most vague of terms - life goes on, for most people anyway, obviously not Dumbledore... Anyway, thanks for the review!

_chrisproffitt_: thankyou, high praise indeed *blushes* If you're reading Corvine I hope I'm continuing to meet your high standards :) Thanks for the review!

_Lady Love Snape-Malfoy-Riddle_: I'm glad. Hope you also like this :) Thanks for the review!

_Corvine Chapter 4   
Silverthreads_: I'm glad you thought so, and that's quite alright :)

_borneshadowchilde_: Big head, moi? Hah! Too much Real Life for that to happen ;) Thanks for the review!

_Cocotitch_: heh, glad I can still keep _some_ things from you! As for the other :p I'll get you for that later *smirks evilly*

_Skull Bearer_: *falls over* wow, I must be doing _something_ right to get a review like this... *gapes* Right. *rolls up sleeves* I'm glad you like Hades, I was trying for a Harry that was 99 serpent but still retained that 1 almost-unknowing humanity about him - by which I mean the flirting etc. not that he has compassion lol. My opinion is still divided over Dumbledore in canon, although I think my fics make it quite clear in which direction I lean, both for him and Snape!   
Yes, Snape and his 'leash', ah, poor guy, gets a brief taste of true freedom here, only to reveal he has to stay and undergo possibly even worse tortures... My heart bleeds for him, but at least he survives...   
Dumbledore's plotting and scheming going awry is what I live for - he keeps thinking he wants to take others down a peg or two, but all the time everyone who's read Serpentine _knows_ that it's really him who's going to take that final, fatal fall.   
Corvine's meaning - I'm slightly surprised no one has yet asked me this; you even beat my housemate to the punch and she is the person for whom the phrase 'pester-power' was invented! Unfortunately for her, the phrase 'pester-proof' was invented for me ;) Basically the original challenge was called 'Serpentine', which is snake-like. Now, in a somewhat convoluted (but entirely normal for me) twist of logic, something that is Serpentine is twisty or a round-about route of getting somewhere, and indeed, Serpentine is a round-about route following Harry that leads to the downfall of Albus Dumbledore and the 'light'. Thus I wanted the companion, which was actually going to be following Dumbledore's route to hell in a (fairly) straight route, to have a name that reflected that in the same way. I came up with 'as the crow flies' - meaning straight from A to B - and thus 'Corvine' or crow-like. *sniggers* can you tell I've been waiting for someone to ask that?   
As for PoA... well, at this point in time all even I know for certain is, as Serpentine revealed, that Sirius gets the Kiss (I also know a bit more about why and what he's doing there, but aside from that...). I really need to re-read the book, because I really can't remember much about what happens... >< Peter's revelation...well, you and I both will have to see how everything else pans out...all I can say is, Dumbledore thinks he's in for a restful year - in which he can search for this 'third power' *sniggers* - boy is he in for a surprise ;) Peter won't be staying to spy at Hogwarts however, don't ask me what my muses have planned for him (they won't tell me either *pouts*), but it isn't a spying role at Hogwarts; that's Severus' job after all.   
Goblet of Fire, well, as you may have guessed from Dumbledore's planning, it's less a case of Voldemort wanting than Voldemort having to make do with - he doesn't have much of a choice in the end. Hermione however, is the key to Dumbledore's 'strike group' with the Weasleys - it is her death that leaves him with little choice but a direct attack. Barty, well, as with PoA I'll need to re-read GoF to see what _actually_ goes on...   
Certain things are fairly 'set in stone' thanks to Serpentine, some have been set up openly or hinted at in Corvine so far, but don't expect many major revelations in PoA - I'm not going to rule them out altogether, there's the Snape/Lupin dynamic for starters - it _shouldn't_ be a monster like this one was, and that means I may have a shot at writing it mainly from Dumbledore's POV...   
The Prophecy...well, things should be pretty clear now after Snape's opening ramble on the subject.   
Whew, well, not 1am, but still, I hope my response is worthy of your review, and that the update is worthy of your continued patronage :) I humbly apologise once more for the length of time it took to get this out...thank you very much for, um, essaying ;)

_Bella Snape_: I'm glad you liked it, and that's quite alright. I have a huge list of bookmarked fics from a rabid lurker phase I went through a few months back *sheepish grin* Hope you liked this chapter too, and thanks for the review!   
Wow, thanks for both reviews in fact... In answer to your question, no, I don't think I've run across that particular breed, although if you count Harry being all powerful and suchlike then yes, in that case I have. Harry being all powerful and evil though... *shudders* niiice... heh, other than that, not really. Thanks for reviewing...twice!

Aaand breathe... Well, you lot can anyway, I'm off to read PoA and start plotting...*manic expression* Do I need to say it? Oh, alright then, Feed An Author: Review Today!


	6. The Prisoner of Azkaban Part One

Category: Book  
Sub Category: Harry Potter

Series Title: Corvine

Title: The Prisoner of Azkaban

Genres: General - cause I can't think what else it would go under, really   
Language: English  
Author: Zephyr5

Rating: M

Summary: Companion to 'Serpentine': Dumbledore's scheming has backfired in a big way - Harry Potter is Missing, Presumed Dead. Without a saviour, without a backup, and without a clue, the wizarding world is completely unaware of the repercussions of Dumbledore's meddling - but for how long?

Warnings: mention of male/male relationship later, dark!Harry, confused!Snape, Slytherin-like!Dumbledore, eventual character death. Oh, and everyone's probably horribly OOC...

Spoiler Warnings: none - this is AU through and through (obviously, since he gets abandoned before the books really get started)

Disclaimers: I do not own the canon Harry Potter characters who make an appearance, I do, however, own the idea of Nye, shadow vipers, and the plot, along with all my custom potions/spells/wards/items etc.

AN: Dumbledore thinks he has a year in which to regroup and replan his strategy against Voldemort, as well as finding the mysterious group he has dubbed the 'Phantoms'; fate, however, has other ideas...   
Somewhere along the line this decided to focus on a specific set of characters...dunno if that's a good thing or not, I'll leave it to you lot to decide ;p  
I apologise in advance if I've made any continuity errors - I've tried to filter them out where possible, but at over 50,000 words...well, it's gonna happen o.O

**WARNING: (I know there's one earlier, but that's generic, this is more important :p) There be citrus-y goodness of the SSxLM variety in this fic (hence the sudden jump to an 'M' rating if anyone noticed) - that, for the unknowing, means there will be some fairly graphic male/male sexual activities taking place :p Consider it my apology for taking so long & posting such a long chapter **

**The Prisoner of Azkaban**

Poppy Pomfrey, though many might have thought otherwise, rarely left Hogwarts during the Summer. She liked the quiet atmosphere within the school, or rather, the cool neutrality of the Hospital Wing, far more than the hectic hustle and bustle of the outside world. Once upon a time, before even the first war against Voldemort, then she had loved walking through the deserted Hogwarts corridors. Now though, there was a slow taint spreading through the castle, an insidious infection forced upon it through the madness of the current Headmaster.

Oh, Poppy was under no illusions that Albus Dumbledore was sane, nor that his madness, now, remained the benign curse that it had once been. No...the saying - the muggle saying - was all too true. Power corrupted, and absolute power corrupted absolutely. Albus Dumbledore had gone too long unchecked, and his madness had fed upon itself and become bloated and prideful - malignant. The best example of how far he had fallen from his once-shining ideals, was the way in which he treated Severus Snape...and how he was starting to treat Minerva McGonagall.

Now Severus had chosen a path into the dark of his own free will, Poppy knew. But she also knew that, once upon a time, such a choice alone would not have been enough to garner more from Albus than a sorrowful expression of disappointment. These days...well, she'd seen the point at which Severus was forced to seek aid too many times, and she scarcely dared to contemplate how many times he'd been brutalised just short of that point and had patched himself up. At least when the Dark Lord discovered a spy, it was over within a few months - at the most... To her mind, when it came down to it, Albus Dumbledore had far surpassed the Dark Lord's evil.

But Poppy also knew that Albus Dumbledore had abandoned morals even the Dark Lord seemed still to acknowledge. The Dark Lord, whether because he had never forgotten his own childhood's hardships, or simply because he regarded them as inefficient compared to adults, had never yet stooped to using children to carry out his bidding - though his Death Eaters, almost inevitably, dragged their children in their footsteps. Albus Dumbledore, on the other hand, seemed bound and determined to create a child army to fight his battles for him. First there had been Harry Potter, conceived at Dumbledore's whim, then dumped on relatives without warning or compensation. Now, with that same saviour glaringly absent, and Dumbledore tellingly silent on the matter, the Headmaster was grooming yet more children to do his bidding.

The Headmaster's plans were unravelling though, she could almost feel it, almost sense it in the air, as though the slippery weaving of fate was winding around her where she stood, staring down onto the Hogwarts grounds. Severus had left her a note, explaining what had been going on that she had not been able to see from her quarter of the castle. Explaining about the basilisk, and his suspicions about Ginevra Weasley. It had been, she still thought, fortuitous that the Dark blood-magic used by Severus on the three Weasley boys and Lockhart, had managed to, effectively, obliviate them all so that none of them had known how they'd been knocked out, or by who, or even exactly where. Lockhart had been particularly badly affected - strange considering the supposed amounts of such magic he'd dealt with in the past - and had been transferred quietly to St. Mungos.

Hogwarts was no longer the safe haven it had once been. Even here, in the Hospital Wing, where she could call upon her rights within the castle to bar anyone she deemed necessary to remove from the area, it was no longer entirely safe. Indeed, unless she played a very fine line, Poppy could see herself being far too grateful for the protections laid upon healers when they gained their qualifications... But Poppy Pomfrey was not an easily deterred woman, and she believed firmly in her oath as a healer. There was nothing she could do for Albus, but perhaps she could do some surreptitious searching in the library and find out whether she could do something to prevent his madness infecting the very stones of Hogwarts itself...

* * *

Unlike Poppy Pomfrey, and like the majority of the other Hogwarts staff, Minerva McGonagall _did_ go home over the summer months. She had especially good reason to want to be out from under Albus Dumbledore's eye, however. Having learned what she had, that she had blatantly been played as both a pawn and a fool, and possibly not for the first - or last - time, by the Headmaster she would have once willingly trusted with her life, Minerva had a lot to think about.

'Be careful. I doubt I will be myself after the Headmaster returns.' Severus Snape's parting words still haunted her, etched into her mind by his strange behaviour that day. Truly, Severus hadn't acted like the bitter young man she had always known him as, nor as a man who constantly lashed out in anger at a world that could not let him forget a single, ill-thought choice. No...the Severus she had thought she knew, he would have laughed at Ginny being taken into the Chamber...well, maybe not, but he certainly wouldn't have taken charge so swiftly and efficiently - not for a Gryffindor.

But what did it all mean? Was she supposed to infer from his words that the Severus Snape she had spoken to that day was the 'real' Severus Snape? That before then, and now, afterwards, he was hiding behind a mask? Or had she read his tone aright, and was she supposed to infer that he didn't hide behind a mask of his own choosing, nor, perhaps, of his own will? ...No... Whilst she could no longer say for certain that the Headmaster would not stoop to less than above-board methods to contain and control certain information, she had no evidence to say that he would stoop so low as to fully control someone against their will.

Still...Severus hadn't tried to force her to a decision. Minerva stared out across the lake at the setting sun. In a world where the dark shadow of You-Know-Who was starting to grow once again, the last thing that was needed was for contention between themselves, especially somewhere as iconic as Hogwarts. But if contention was bad...wouldn't a canker, a rot, be worse?

Minerva stared into the deep red hues of the vanishing sun, and, as the last rays fell below the horizon, she made her decision. No longer would she blindly trust Dumbledore, but she would not blindly doubt him either. She would watch, and listen, and wait, and, if it became necessary, she would do what she considered best for her students. _All_ her students.

* * *

There were disadvantages and advantages to the majority of the Hogwarts staff going home - or on holiday - over the summer months, Albus reflected. It meant that he couldn't keep an eye on their activities, see if there were any who tipped their hand as to their involvement with the Phantoms. But on the other hand, it meant that they weren't under his eye, and thus would relax, making them more likely to slip when they _were_ back in Hogwarts.

He was not, however, overly concerned. Besides their probable concealment of Harry Potter, and their apparent interference in his plans during the academic year just gone, the Phantoms had yet to reveal themselves as a real threat to his overall plans. Of course, they had yet to reveal themselves as a possible ally - or tool - in said plans either. Still, he doubted they had much real power, or he was almost certain they would have shown their hand more openly by this point. Voldemort, after all, had now made two attempts to return to 'life'; both of which had been foiled - and here he refused to lie to himself any longer - by a combination of cunning and sheer luck.

Of course, he now knew exactly what was going on - if not exactly who was involved in all cases - and with this year, which promised to be a 'pause' for all sides to rally and regroup in readiness for the next strategic moves, he could adapt his plans to his new knowledge. His eventual victory was assured, for he knew, with the grim certainty of a wizard who had already defeated one Dark Lord, that his opponents - potential or actual - had shown their hands - however much or little of them it might be - too soon. He knew the Phantoms existed now, that they had Harry Potter, and that he was their only bargaining chip - one that he knew to be as worthless as Trelawney's prophecy. He knew Voldemort believed he had several routes into Hogwarts - but Severus Snape was _his_ puppet now, and Lucius Malfoy was a governor no longer.

Yes, this year he would be generous. He would revise his plans and let his opponents fret over nothing as they tried to divine what schemes were unfolding this time. He would let them sweat whilst he pulled the strings that would bring his plans for Miss Granger's test to fruition. This year he would act as a true hunter; he would not chase his prey, he would bait his trap and wait for them to stumble blindly into it...

* * *

Alastor Moody's visit - unannounced - came a mere month into the Summer holiday, and as something of a surprise to Albus Dumbledore. More surprising, however, was the news he brought with him, or rather, the suspicions he brought with him. Moody, whilst a member of the Order, knew certain things that the other Order members did not, things that meant Dumbledore had always allowed him greater freedom. That he had never revealed these things to anyone else - or at least, not that Albus knew of, and he was fairly certain he would know if the information had leaked out - was the reason Moody was the most trusted of the Order; or anyone else Dumbledore knew for that matter.

Of course, it helped that, just as Moody could destroy him by spilling the right secrets in the right ear, he could see Moody put in Azkaban for the rest of his life - probably saving his own skin in the process - the same way.

Still, although he'd known about the unfortunate death of Felicity Kent he, like the Aurors, had written it off to an unfortunate accident. If what Moody was saying about other muggle deaths was true though, then that brought things into a whole new light. He'd been unable to hide his brief surprise when Moody had - fairly openly - hinted that he thought it was the Dark Lord; what other muggle-hating parselmouths were there? Albus hoped, however, that he'd been able to hide the sudden thought that occurred to him.

Was it possible that _Harry Potter_ was a parselmouth? Certainly the curse scar and Voldemort's discorporation suggested that there might have been at least a partial power transfer... If that was true, and Harry would now be, he calculated, 13 years of age in just over a months time, then it was entirely possible that the Phantoms were training him in magic - and the Unforgivables. That was a worrying development; it either meant they were prepared to go to any lengths to deal with those they considered a threat - hopefully Voldemort and _not_ him - or they intended to support the Dark Lord...were perhaps even training his potential heir...

It was also possible, although highly unlikely, that Moody had also considered that it might be Harry Potter behind the attacks, especially the way in which he had - blindsiding Albus somewhat - almost casually enquired as to his whereabouts and safety immediately after dropping the bombshell of the murders on him. Albus _knew_ he'd answered that question too quickly, too certainly. Fortunately Moody had not followed up the line of enquiry, and so Dumbledore was reasonably certain that the ex-Auror was merely concerned for their 'saviour's' safety.

He'd let Moody go after reminding him that it was nothing compared to when Voldemort had been alive and gaining power and followers with every passing day, hopefully that would persuade him that he was being overly paranoid and blowing things out of proportion. In all honesty, Albus hoped that he was, that it was just an extremely cautious death eater, but he, like Moody, didn't believe in such coincidence. No, Albus was convinced that it was the Phantoms, and Harry Potter - the question was, could this be used to track them in some way?

Having seen Moody out, Dumbledore headed over to one of the many shelves of trinkets in his office and took down a flat, silvery disk. On closer inspection, it wasn't truly flat, for around the outer edge of the upper surface there were a series of slightly raised areas - buttons. Pressing a combination of these buttons caused the centre section of the disk to become liquid in texture, as reflective as a mirror, or a bowl of water that had been knocked lightly causing faint ripples to sweep from the centre. It was, in fact, a device known as 'Janus' Mirror'; a scrying device of some power, Janus' Mirror was unique in that it could either show where the object of the search had just been, or where it would soon be. However, it also had several limitations; it could not show anything that had been - and would be - in the same place for several hours or more, which generally rendered it useless in item searches. In people or animal searches however... But another, and more severe limitation, was that it could neither penetrate spells preventing scrying nor locate a wizard in animagus form.

Hoping for the best - or perhaps the worst - Albus sat back down at his desk with the mirror, and began the laborious process of attempting to scry for Harry Potter.

* * *

It seemed like he'd been there for a lifetime...an eternity, but he knew it couldn't have been that long...could it? There was little else to think on here besides time, little else to brood on besides thoughts of revenge.

The echoing sound of footsteps brought him out of his trance-like contemplation of the bare stone wall. Voices, rising and falling in hushed conversation; not the screams he was used to hearing as new prisoners were brought in. Visitors, then? But here to see whom?

He had his answer when the footsteps - and voices - stopped at his cell door.

"This is 'im, Minister, Sir. Sirius Black." There was a harsh sound as the guard spat to one side, but he was used to that. More interesting to him was the name..._his_ name...Sirius Black...

He turned, regarding the four men at the door silently. Two were obviously Aurors, their hands on their wands; either they were expecting him to attempt to attack the Minister, or they just wanted an excuse to hex him. One of the other two was a guard, dressed in the regulation prison uniform...if you could call it that. That left the other as the Minister. It seemed that he should recognise the man, or maybe he shouldn't, maybe he was a new Minister; such memories of a useless bureaucracy he hadn't deemed important to save from the Dementors. He noticed, however, that the Minister was carrying a rolled-up newspaper loosely in one hand. Maybe he could find out how long he'd actually been here...

"Would you be so kind as to leave me your paper, Minister?" His voice sounded rough, unused, even to his own ears. He supposed that was because he hadn't spoken in so long - he'd quickly learned there was little point protesting his innocence to the guards, never mind the Dementors.

"M...my paper?" The Minister looked sharply at the guard. "He's been here twelve years and he's sane enough to ask for a paper?" Twelve years? _Twelve_ years? Twelve _years_? Shock disengaged his mind from the words his mouth began to say, but Sirius didn't really notice.

"I miss doing the crossword." Sure, he'd thought it felt like decades, but he'd been certain that it was just his imagination, that the days had merged into one long memory of four bleak walls that only seemed to have been all he'd ever known. In the early days, the days and weeks - and he supposed now months - after his incarceration he'd rarely been left alone by the Dementors, filled, as he was, with the hope that someone - anyone - would demand he be retried with Veritaserum. Dumbledore, Remus, hell, even Snivellus Snape... But no one had come, and the Dementors had ensured that he couldn't hope forever.

"Well, I...I suppose so...can't do any harm eh?" The Minister stuttered, glancing at each of the others with him in turn. Seeing none of them protesting, he shrugged and hastily thrust the paper into the cell, almost as if he expected Sirius to lunge for it and try to drag him in there with it. Sirius remained where he was crouched, face impassive, lost in his thoughts.

"Thank you." He muttered, almost absently. The Minister gave him one last, befuddled glance, and then turned on his heel and walked away. Sirius watched him go, but his thoughts were whirling once again. Twelve years...little Harry would be thirteen now, would be at Hogwarts for his third year soon.

He wondered where Harry was living now. Lily and James were dead, which meant his only living _blood_ relatives were... He searched his memory, certain that Lily had once mentioned something about a...sister? Yes...only, hadn't she said her sister loathed magic, hated her because she was able to do magic and she wasn't? No, surely Dumbledore wouldn't have put the boy there...

But deep in his heart, Sirius knew that was _exactly_ where Albus would have put Harry - there was no stronger protection, after all, than that based on blood relatives. But would the Headmaster remember that blood magic was incredibly fickle, or would he conveniently ignore that fact? Sirius had no doubts, that Dumbledore would do what he believed was best for the Wizarding world as a whole; besides, what Death Eaters would think to search the muggle world for the boy-who-lived?

The paper unfolded as he contemplated the fate of Harry Potter and the footsteps faded into the distance once more. On the front page was a wizarding photograph of a large, smiling family in Egypt, beneath the heading 'Ministry Official Scoops Prophet Grand Draw'. It wasn't, however, the _people_ in the image that caught Sirius' eye...

* * *

His chance to escape came five days later, the 29th of July if Fudge had been carrying that day's paper on him.

Sirius had discovered, barely a few weeks into his incarceration, that if he changed into his animagus form - a large black dog that wizards frequently mistook for the grim, much to his amusement - the Dementors seemed both to have a lesser effect on him, and also to take less notice of him. He had no idea why that might be - deep thinking required the human form that they loved to feast on and torment, preventing any thinking he might have done - but he had exploited it to its fullest in the twelve years he'd been imprisoned. Of course, he'd planned to escape before, but he hadn't been able to fit through the bars at first, plus there had been more regular checks of his cell.

Besides, the only people who he might have turned to, might have trusted, were the same people who could have prevented his being sent here in the first place - or at least shortened his stay. That they hadn't could only mean one thing - they believed he was guilty. And why shouldn't they? All the evidence, the damning evidence, was against him. Who would have believed that it had really been Pettigrew...'poor Peter', the runt of the group, always less, always basking in the reflected attention that was really only aimed at James and Sirius, and sometimes Remus. It had been so easy to write Peter off as the spy, so easy to assume that timid, cowardly Peter wouldn't have the guts to offer himself to Voldemort. Instead he had been certain that it was Remus, the werewolf, the outcast - at least when people found out - the _dark creature_...how he regretted his prejudices and assumptions now. Now that it was too late...

"James...Lily...how I failed you..." Sirius whispered to the ghosts in his memory, then transformed into Padfoot, the grim. He was a sorry sight, in either form. Unkempt and emaciated, Padfoot's fur was dull and matted, his rib, shoulder and pelvic bones standing proud and clear through the sunken skin. Now, more than ever, he looked like a death omen fresh from the netherworlds. But he was now skinny enough to squeeze his way between the bars, leaving unhealthy clumps of black fur on the rough and rusted metal. Briefly he turned back into his human form, only long enough to gather the fur and shove it into a pocket - no need to leave them clues as to how he had escaped - and then it was back to his canine form before the Dementors sensed emotions where they should not be and came to investigate.

Navigating through the prison was easy enough as Padfoot, the scent from Fudge's visit still lingering in the stale and unmoving air of the corridors. Several times he had to press himself into the shadows as a guard or Dementor went past, but finally he was at the, thankfully, unmanned gate. A stiff northerly wind tugged at his matted fur and whistled in his ears; freedom, freedom it seemed to call. Risking his human form once more, Sirius unbolted and opened the gate before slipping through as Padfoot and hurriedly making his way down to the shore.

Having made it to the edge of the prison island, Sirius paused for a moment, gathering his energy, relishing the taste of freedom - however brief it might prove to be - and sparing a brief glance back at the dark and forbidding castle. He probably didn't have long before his escape was noticed, maybe a day if he was lucky, an hour or less if he wasn't, but as he readied himself for the next stage of his bid for true freedom - and revenge - he made a vow. He would not return here, _never_; he would die first.

Howling his promise to the cloudy skies - a sound that made more than one guard on the island shiver - Sirius plunged into the icy waters and began to swim.

* * *

Hundreds of miles away from Azkaban's desolate shores, Narcissa Malfoy moved uneasily and muttered in her sleep. Lucius, kept awake by his growing unease as the time grew closer for Severus to return to Hogwarts, half-heard the muttered words, but in the morning, when he would ask his wife who and what she had meant by 'he seeks the truth, but only death shall find him', she would be unable to recall anything.

* * *

Sirius, it turned out, had been lucky. Not only had his escape not been discovered until late the next day, but he had made it to the mainland just ahead of a ferocious storm. Of course, his 'luck' was a matter of opinion. Albus Dumbledore, for example, didn't think it was lucky at all. No, he now had a loose cannon to worry about along with the Phantoms - and Sirius he _knew_ would raise holy and indiscrete hell if he was to learn of Harry's disappearance.

There was also the question of how, exactly, Sirius had managed to escape Azkaban - Fudge would no doubt deluge him with owls over that - for it was supposed to be inescapable. Albus, however, had no intentions of informing the Minister of his suspicions; that the Phantoms had somehow aided Black's escape. First Potter, now Black; did the Phantoms intend to topple Voldemort after all? He knew for certain that Black would _never_ aid the Dark Lord willingly...or would Azkaban have reduced his sanity to such that he would follow Harry's lead? No...surely someone that insane couldn't have escaped - not without help... And so his thoughts came full circle, still no clearer. After all, even if the Phantoms did decide to topple Voldemort, there were no guarantees that they wouldn't then set their sights on him, on a full takeover of the wizarding world...

As his thoughts circled themselves, darkening and feeding on his paranoid delusions, Albus Dumbledore's mood steadily darkened with them.

It was highly unfortunate, therefore, that Severus Snape chose that precise moment to return to Hogwarts.

* * *

Lucius watched his lover step into the floo with a deep sense of foreboding. Had it been up to him, Severus would never have returned to Hogwarts again, but, as both Severus and Narcissa had been at pains to point out, it was neither up to him nor an option if they were to carry out their plans successfully. So all Lucius could do, and had done, was to ensure that Severus' mind was as prepared for Dumbledore's abuse as possible.

It didn't make the awful, nauseous feeling of fear leave him though. Not even Narcissa's embrace and words of assurance that it would all come right in the end could do that...

* * *

Minister Fudge was almost frantic, though of course he tried not to show it. He was convinced that there was something he should be doing - someone important he should be meeting...but there was nothing in his diary, and his secretary was equally blank when he checked the days engagements with her. It was infuriating, and highly disconcerting.

As he paced in his office, Fudge found himself thinking, for no apparent reason, of Harry Potter; the boy-who-lived. Shaking his head and reassuring himself that _of course_ Dumbledore would have informed him of any trouble there, Fudge dismissed the vague questions of the boy's whereabouts from his mind. For some reason it made him think of the failed search, some nine years ago now, for a foreign diplomat's child. He remembered Albus Dumbledore being there, although there had been absolutely no reason for Hogwart's Headmaster to be present, remembered with startling clarity telling the older wizard who they were searching for...a sense that something was wrong with the memory flickered briefly at the back of his mind, but he dismissed it and it faded into nothing. The sense that he had forgotten something had also passed, thankfully, and Fudge gratefully went back to the paperwork from which he had been distracted.

The ripple in time moved on...

* * *

Sirius had needed to stop and turn back into his human form for the thinking, and dredging of deeply-buried memories, required to bring to mind the address of Petunia Dursley, nee Evans - the most likely place for Harry to have been taken, or sent to, by Dumbledore. Even then it had taken some time. He was weak from his escape, on the brink of hypothermia from the swim to the mainland, and he had no way to warm himself or heal the scrapes and bruises he had gained as he scrambled onto dry land.

Still, there was something more than mere energy or willpower driving Sirius now. He wanted, _needed_ to see Harry before he truly went after Peter Pettigrew - Wormtail. It didn't matter if he only glimpsed the boy, didn't matter if he received no true blessing for his quest, for his revenge. It didn't even matter if Harry blamed him and called him traitor, though it would hurt, knowing that the boy he would willingly give his life for thought him the direct - rather than the indirect - cause of his parent's death. All he needed was that sight, that image, that idol to whom he could dedicate his quest, his kill. He had no illusions that he himself would survive, no, he would kill the rat and then he would resist arrest and force the Aurors to kill him.

He never even considered that Pettigrew's corpse might prove him innocent; a part of him blinded by the knowledge that the forces stacked against him were beyond his ability to battle, alone, friendless and wandless. He knew only two things; he would kill Peter Pettigrew, and he would die rather than return to Azkaban, just as he had vowed...

* * *

But when he reached Privet Drive, Sirius was forced to reconsider what he had thought he'd known...

* * *

If Harry had ever been here - and Sirius was pretty certain that he'd been sent to the Dursley's initially - then he wasn't here now, and hadn't been at least since the storm two days ago. It figured, Sirius thought, listening to the rain hitting the leaves of the tree in which he was hiding, that Dumbledore - or someone trustworthy acting on his behalf - had moved Harry as soon as they learned of his escape from Azkaban. But he had felt so certain, as he made his uncertain way here, that he would at least glimpse the boy.

Still, all was not lost yet. Ronald Weasley, if he remembered correctly, was the same age as Harry - he had a vague memory of Lily and Molly comparing notes on their respective pregnancies at an Order meeting - and would therefore be attending Hogwarts. Knowing the castle as well as he did, it was there that Sirius planned to snatch Pettigrew, masquerading, as he was, as the Weasley boy's rat familiar. Doing so should also provide him with an opportunity to see Harry, if not speak to him, for he could not imagine Dumbledore allowing Harry to be schooled anywhere other than in the school where he was Headmaster.

Resigned to waiting for the glimpse of his grail, Sirius decided to wait the rain out before he moved on. He was wedged tightly enough in the branches of the tree that it would not matter if he slept, and the sleep would do him good, even if it was troubled and nightmare filled.

He neither noticed nor questioned the lack of wards around Privet Drive.

* * *

Sirius was not the only one troubled with nightmares and disturbed sleep; high above the rest of Hogwarts, Sibyll Trelawney, the Divinations Professor most people regarded as nothing more than a fraud, wannabe Seer, tossed and turned in uneasy slumber, her dreams filled with the lonely plight of a young, red-headed girl who looked hauntingly familiar.

* * *

The Weasleys, unaware that it was a photograph of them, or rather, their youngest son's familiar, that was the cause, returned from Egypt to the chaos that Sirius Black's escape had caused. Instantly Arthur Weasley was summoned into the ministry to be briefed, despite the fact that he was technically on holiday until the end of the month - six days away.

Arthur and Molly Weasley, like any parents, were concerned by the escape of the infamous Sirius Black from Azkaban - of all places - but not, perhaps, as concerned as some. Arthur, as a ministry official was, of course, considered to be at a higher risk - hence the briefing - but they were both Order members, and were quite certain that Albus Dumbledore would have warned them if he thought there was any great risk to them or their children.

Blissfully unaware that anything was amiss, as they had been for twelve years now, the Weasleys continued on with their lives as normal. Their faith in Dumbledore, especially after Ginevra's horrible experience with the Chamber of Secrets the year before, was absolute.

* * *

After much deliberation, and failing to locate Sirius Black using the Janus' Mirror, Dumbledore floo called Alastor Moody - narrowly avoiding a blinding curse - and 'asked' him to pay him a visit at Hogwarts. There were only four days left before the Hogwarts Express brought the students back to the castle for another year, and Albus wanted to set some things in motion before then. If he could keep the Phantoms busy looking over their shoulders, then perhaps he could delay their plans to his advantage.

* * *

He hadn't planned for Severus being present when Moody arrived, not considering the 'leash' was somehow visible to the ex-Auror's magical eye - Dumbledore was certain that _wasn't_ a standard ability of the eye. Unfortunately he was, however, so Albus, rather than transparently sending the Potions Master away, allowed him to remain, all but outright stating that the leash had changed because Severus had managed to slip the old one, hinting that it had done the death eater little good when he had encountered the displeasure of the Malfoys.

Whether Moody had believed him or not, well, it didn't really matter. As long as Moody kept his secrets, Albus would keep Moody's secrets; it was an old and understood, if unspoken, agreement. Besides, there were more important things afoot - such as the Phantoms and Harry Potter's whereabouts - than his treatment of a known death eater.

By the time Alastor left, Albus was certain that the ex-Auror would be more than enough to keep the Phantoms out of his business. That would free him up to deal with Sirius Black. He'd already agreed - feigning great reluctance - to Fudge's insistence on posting Dementors around Hogwarts. There was no need to inform Cornelius that Black undoubtedly knew or had ways around the Dementors - he had slipped past them at Azkaban after all - since there was always the chance that luck would see the man kissed _before_ he could cause trouble.

Lupin, of course, was another factor that would have to be monitored more closely now than he had planned, but Dumbledore was certain that the werewolf wouldn't be able to cause enough trouble to be a real threat. Still, it didn't hurt to cover all your bases, and if Lupin _were_ to accidentally be the victim of a Dementor searching the Hogwarts Express...well; a tragic accident, so terrible, Dementors must have sensed something...off...about him. Then it would come out that Lupin was a werewolf, and, lo and behold, the school and the children would turn out to have been saved from such a dreadful dark creature.

Of course, if Lupin survived it made little difference, except that he wouldn't have to suddenly try and find another teacher at short notice. He had a contingency plan for the year in that case anyway. No, Dumbledore thought to himself. This year was for patience. He had set his seeds, now he would see what bloomed.

* * *

It had started two weeks before; the same evening Minister Fudge had been convinced he'd missed an important appointment if you wanted to be more precise. A strange sensation, a strange phenomenon, and yet for the most part, no one in its area of effect seemed to even notice it, no more than a muggle would notice a ghost passing through them; a chill, a strange sensation produced by part-felt thoughts and memories, nothing that a look around and a brisk shake of the head wouldn't cure them of.

There were a few, however, around whom the effect seemed to linger, more pronounced and noticeable.

Tom, the barkeeper and owner of the Leaky Cauldron, had never before suffered from memory lapses. For the past week however, he had been consistently unable to remember - without checking the register - that room eleven was free, unbooked, available for rent, _whatever_. They were otherwise fully booked, so really, it shouldn't have been difficult to remember that one room was free...but it was. At a moments notice he could have told you when each of the occupants of the other rooms would be vacating them, when they had begun renting them, and even any particular requirements, such as Mr Kettleburn in room 9 who insisted on his room being cleaned between 10 and 11 - at night. He'd even been to a Mediwitch, and she'd told him - quite emphatically - that he was neither suffering the side effects of some spell, nor losing his mind to any other cause. Therefore he would just have to keep hoping that it would pass, and not spread to include any of the other rooms.

Florean Fortescue, owner and maker of Ice-Cream - wizarding style - had a similar problem. For the past week, in the mornings, from about half nine in the morning until about one in the afternoon, he would find himself, every half hour on the dot, making a sundae for a table that had no customers sitting at it. They didn't go to waste of course, as soon as he finished making them he would glance up at the empty table, shake his head sharply as he realised it was empty, and then put the sundae to one side, ready for the next actual customer who wanted one. Much to his relief, he found on the Monday morning that the tendency had stopped as suddenly and inexplicably as it had started.

* * *

For the most part, however, the effect was fleeting and insubstantial, inconsequential.

Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were standing outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, admiring the latest broom on the market, the Firebolt, when they were both suddenly possessed of the strangest sensation. It felt, for a moment, as if they should say something, greet someone, and yet...there was no one there but the busy shoppers moving up and down the street. As suddenly as it had come, the feeling moved on, leaving behind it a faint sense of loss and regret, as though they'd lost a friend they'd never known they had.

Neville was doing a good job of hiding his flinches as his gran verbally laid into him, mainly due to the fact that he was fumbling in his robe pockets for the cause of her diatribe - his misplaced book list. The problem was, whilst normally he wouldn't have had any problems turning his pockets out to search them, he hadn't removed the last bubblegum wrapper presented to him by his mother. If his gran saw it she would make him throw it away, and he didn't want to do that. She was really getting into her stride now - not that he was listening closely - but when she suddenly fell silent he looked up, and in that instant he too felt it. A presence, invisible but undeniably present and not threatening in the slightest. He felt the faintest touch of sadness, and a whisper of anger that made his fists clench inside his pockets...his left fist clenching on a sizable piece of paper. The strange and foreign feelings vanished like mist under the sun, and Neville triumphantly pulled the book list from his pocket.

Hermione and Ron, having met at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour after their shopping was done, found themselves not only ordering a third sundae, but occasionally pausing for a contribution to their conversation - or an answer to a question - from a third person who blatantly wasn't there. Neither of them seemed to notice this however, nor did they seem to find it strange when the expected commentary didn't materialise. They were enveloped in an aura of close friendship and trust, an aura that almost seemed to make them shine with a golden light, and yet this too faded, leaving a lingering sense of loss, as though they had lost something that made them whole. But if it lingered longer, gradually the pain dimmed and vanished, dismissed and forgotten as easily as a dream.

* * *

But if there were obvious - at least to one who knew what they were looking for - signs, there were also more subtle signs, evidence of the magnitude of the ripple by how far its echoes had spread.

The assistant at Flourish and Blotts, though he wasn't yet aware of it, would, after September 1st, be wondering at the extra copies of 'Unfogging the Future', 'Intermediate Transfiguration', and 'The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three'. After all, the Hogwarts teachers always knew exactly how many students would be requiring which books, and that meant that Flourish and Blotts always knew exactly how many copies of each book to order. But since no one would be able to imagine how Hogwarts might get the count wrong, it would be dismissed as a clerical error somewhere along the line at the printers.

* * *

There was only one person who saw the pattern, saw it and recognised it for what it was, what it meant. People moving aside, almost absently, almost randomly...unless you watched where the spaces opened up, followed the invisible space that nothing more than a feeling, a ripple, occupied. Someone was missing...someone very important to history...someone very powerful...

"Albus, what have you done...?" Moody shook his head in despair, already knowing, deep in his gut, _who_ was supposed to be in that purposefully-moving space, recognising, in that same instant, the 'ghost' hunt that he'd been sent on and its causes. But also recognising that, this time, no one would be able to escape the consequences to follow...whatever they were.

* * *

The ripple was a ripple no longer; it was a wave, a tidal wave, towering over and influencing the unsuspecting Wizarding world as it rushed towards them, ready to crest...ready to break...

* * *

Remus Lupin wasn't entirely sure why he'd been requested to ride on the Hogwarts Express, after all, it wasn't as though there was likely to be an attack on it, not like thirteen, fourteen years ago when Voldemort had been around. Neither was he entirely certain why he felt so tired; it was still five days until the full moon, and usually he managed to function normally until a day or so before, despite the sharpening of his senses and the drain of his energy. The tiredness, however, he supposed might be due to the high-quality Wolfsbane potion rather than his normal barely-adequate Wolfsbane potion from the black market, which was normally all he could afford. That, he supposed, was the benefit of working with a Potions _Master_ as a colleague. Not, he knew, that Severus Snape would see it the same way. No, Snape had never forgiven him - or any of the Marauders - for that one, nearly-fatal stunt that Sirius had pulled.

Still, professional pride would stop him from poisoning the Wolfsbane - although the taste would make you wonder - and he would be more diligent than the other professors might be in seeing that he took it as required. For all Snape was probably hated and feared by his students, he most likely was the most concerned of the professors for their well being.

Lupin was reflecting on how Hogwarts might have changed - and how it might have stayed the same - since he was a student there, half dozing in the seat next to the window where he could conveniently prop himself in an upright position in case he did fall completely asleep, when the door slid back and two children - a boy and a girl, with a rat familiar and a part-cat, part-kneazle familiar respectively - entered rather noisily. Caught up in their conversation, they didn't seem to notice him in the corner.

"...just want you to keep that damn cat away from Scabbers, that's all. I mean, why's Crookshanks going after him now - he's never bothered before." The boy sounded aggrieved. The girl sighed, exasperated if Lupin guessed correctly. He wondered idly how long the 'discussion' had been going on.

"Honestly Ron, your 'medicine' has _catnip_ in it - of course Crookshanks is going to try and get to where he can smell it; which is on Scabbers." Catnip...oh dear... Lupin debated whether or not to warn Minerva; no, it would be an unintended prank worthy of the Marauders, how better to celebrate the return of the only one of the four who were alive or welcome in Hogwarts these days? The thought, he noted wryly, was bitter and dry enough for Severus Snape.

"Oh!" The startled exclamation was followed by a query from the boy, quickly shushed, and Lupin guessed that the girl had finally noticed him in the corner.

Silence fell, broken only by the quiet swish of turning pages as either Ron or the girl read a book. It lasted for several hours, long enough for Lupin to wonder, more than once, whether he should 'wake up' and perhaps start a conversation. He really _was_ tired though, and opted to remain in his semi-sleeping state where he could let his thoughts ramble as they wished.

* * *

He only discovered that he'd slept when he was awoken, truly this time, by the carriage door sliding back and two more students - almost crackling with a mischievous energy he could sense even when they were in the doorway - bounded in. Unsurprisingly they were instantly hushed by the girl, who probably pointed him out, because when they started speaking it was in a tone of suppressed excitement.

Trying to calm the pounding of his heart - he honestly had been caught out by the rude awakening - Remus paid little attention to the conversation, instead focusing on the light falling on his closed eyes. It was harsh and a little more orange than natural light, that meant the carriage lights were on, which in turn meant it was dark - or growing dark - outside. They couldn't be more than an hour from Hogwarts.

"...Dementors at Hogwarts..." Lupin fought the instinct to snarl at the mention of Dementors, distracting himself by considering the rest of the snatch of conversation that he'd heard. Dementors at Hogwarts? Why? Surely Albus wouldn't allow something like that, not Dementors, not around _children_... But...well, Lupin wondered, sometimes, about some of the justifications Albus had used to excuse his actions and decisions in the past. It wasn't anything concrete, just times when, in between Albus saying something and whipping out whatever pungent sweets he was offering that week, sometimes the scents hadn't quite matched up. No, nothing concrete, but certainly more than enough to put him on his guard.

"...because of Sirius Black's escape!" He assumed that the girl - or the boy - had asked his own question, why were Dementors going to be at Hogwarts? Then the words sank in, _Sirius had escaped_, and he jerked, quite violently, attracting the attention of the others in the carriage.

"Who's that?"

Lupin's mind was racing. Sirius had escaped from _Azkaban_. Sirius, whom he had loved from sight, the wolf in him recognising its mate. Sirius who had called him traitor and spy, only to hide his own traitorous spying. Was he now after Harry? Had he escaped in order to finish the macabre task that his master had begun twelve years ago?

"R. J. Lupin - that's the name on his trunk anyway." Any further conversation was cut off as the train's brakes were slammed on, all the lights instantly going out.

* * *

Lupin dropped all pretence of sleep the moment the lights failed. His eyes snapped open, and it was quite easy to discern that they weren't all that far from Hogwarts - the sky outside was dark, the moon just beginning to rise over the horizon. Perhaps this was the reason Albus had wanted him on the Express...but why had it stopped? Who was attacking? Sirius? He felt his heart begin to clench painfully, the betrayal almost as fresh twelve years on as it had been that Halloween night. If it was Sirius...he wasn't sure whether he'd be able to fight him.

"Sit down and stay here." He watched, able to see the stunned expressions of the students as they obeyed. Quite whether their shock was from his sudden awakening or the sudden turn events had taken, he wasn't sure, neither, at this moment, did he care. Something was wrong - this close to the full moon his senses were already heightened, and every one of them was screaming a warning; something was _very_ wrong...

An unnatural chill crept through the air, visible on the window where frost patterns were forming, attracting the attention of the four students. But it was the rattling breaths in the corridor that held Lupin transfixed, that and the memories that were slowly trying to rise to the front of his mind.

The door to the compartment shook, and Lupin raised his wand, concentrating fiercely on the day he'd received his Hogwarts letter. The door inched open, propelled by long, spidery grey fingers that reeked of decay. The cloaked figure of a Dementor was slowly revealed, its hooded gaze fixated on the occupants of the carriage.

"None of us is hiding Black beneath our cloaks - be on your way." Lupin commanded firmly, wand at the ready. Maybe he wasn't certain about being able to fight Sirius, but a Dementor... The cowled gaze swung in his direction, and then away again as the Dementor starting to slowly drift into the carriage itself.

Sweat beaded and chilled on his forehead, the sounds of paws rushing towards him growing louder by the second.

"_Expecto patronum_." The silver mist that sprayed from his wand wasn't very powerful, but it didn't need to be, not against a lone Dementor. He watched it recoil into the corridor and away, the sound of growling fading as it went.

The lights came on shortly after that, the train also jerking unsteadily back into motion. He absently gave the four students chocolate, deciding that he had better check the rest of the train. It was unlikely there had been any other problems, but still, it had been pure luck - hadn't it? - that the Dementor had picked _this_ carriage, where there was someone who could defend against them, to take an interest in...

"I'm going to speak with the driver." He stepped out into the corridor, the absence of panicking students and cries of terror or loss telling him that the Dementor had caused no other problems.

Yes, he was definitely going to have a word with the driver - why had the idiot stopped in the first place? Surely the ministry didn't think Sirius would attempt to attack the Hogwarts Express? Then again, maybe they had a point - who knew what someone who'd been a prisoner in Azkaban for twelve years might attempt? His mind whirled in a million different directions. Clearly Harry wasn't on the Express - why, and why did no one seemed to be concerned about the fact, even to the point of it being mentioned in passing? At least, he assumed Harry wasn't on the Express. Surely, if Albus _had_ wanted him here in case of the Dementors getting out of hand, then for safety's sake he would have been at least _near_ the boy?

It also didn't explain why his carriage had been singled out. Because he had once been Black's friend, his lover? Because he was a decoy to lessen the likelihood of them going after a more tempting target, such as the-boy-who-lived? But that would argue for the Dementor having been fixated on him, and it had not been. No, the Dementor had found someone else in the carriage more interesting...who though, and _why_? Besides himself, there had only been the three Weasley boys, the Granger girl, and the two familiars...which of those was interesting enough to their perceptions that they took precedence over a _Dark_ - his sneer was entirely mental - creature such as himself?

Of course...that was assuming that the Dementors had singled his carriage out on their own...that they hadn't been sent...

* * *

It was perhaps fortuitous that Lupin hadn't expected to get any answers from Albus, and thus hadn't bothered asking any questions of him. Indeed, had Albus - already contending with the unexpected factors that had cropped up during the summer - suspected that Lupin was suspicious even _before_ he arrived at Hogwarts...well, he might've found himself in the position of needing to find a new DADA teacher before the first week was out. Needless to say, however, Lupin did not ask, and Albus neither knew nor, distracted as he was with his plans elsewhere, noticed the few hints that might have tipped him off.

In fact, much as the Hippogriff incident, in the combined Slytherin and Gryffindor Care of Magical Creatures class, was supposed to provide a cover for Lucius Malfoy to visit the school - and indirectly, Severus Snape - it incidentally served a secondary purpose. After all, whilst Albus had been fully prepared for the necessity of removing one DADA teacher - permanently - and replacing them, he had not been planning on finding a new CoMC teacher as well. The need, therefore, to baulk Lucius Malfoy's plans to have Hagrid removed, provided ample distraction to prevent Albus Dumbledore from noticing Remus Lupin's ever more suspicious glances around the school.

The incident with the Hippogriff named Buckbeak was, of course, milked for full potential by Draco Malfoy, who found quite quickly that by faking a few winces and groans he was able - with certain professors - to get out of doing work either partially - Snape making Weasley prepare his potions ingredients for him was priceless, although the quality of the finished product had understandably been lower as a result - or entirely. Of course, before the previous year Draco would no doubt have held his father's plans over the heads of the Gryffindors. But he _had_ learned something over the last year - it was better to be patient, to be certain that your plan would go as it should, than to rush eagerly in and royally foul things up. He had also learned over the summer, by listening more and talking less than he would normally do, how to effectively use silence. People were more scared of the things they imagined than of things that were described to them - usually anyway. It was far more effective to hint at the dire consequences facing both the half-giant teacher and his beloved Hippogriff pet, than it was to outright threaten...though, outright threats still had their place...

* * *

Draco, for once, had managed to take a set of fairly simple instructions, and not only form a simple plan from them, but stick to it and make it come to fruition. Lucius thought, as he stalked up the long path from the Hogwarts gates to the school itself, that he might even be slightly impressed. Of course, the boy was nowhere near the level that _he_ had been at the same age...but that was to be expected, wasn't it. He wasn't, after all, _his_ son.

If anyone outside the Malfoy family had known, they might have been quite shocked, but the Malfoy family wasn't, in the true flesh-and-blood sense, a family. The Malfoy family was only one by virtue of its magical adoptions and linkages - the same magical linkages that meant Draco, whilst the son of Narcissa and Snape, was also Lucius' son and heir to the family. Lucius had also been an oddly parented child - as all the Malfoy heirs were really - since he had ended up with the magical equivalent of three mothers and two fathers.

He placed a hand on the Hogwarts main doors, shoving all thoughts of family to the back of his mind, even as he pushed the door inwards. It would certainly not do for such information as _that_ to get out.

Lucius slipped inside, fully expecting to see Dumbledore waiting for him...yet no one was there. He frowned. Was the old fool finally going senile enough to miss a Death Eater - they both knew he was a Death Eater, no matter how he'd fobbed the ministry off - walking up to the school from the gates? Or maybe it was a test, to see what he would do, thinking himself unobserved...

Lucius snorted. He would go to the Hospital Wing and speak with Poppy Pomfrey, a long-time neutral witch. She could both tell him how his son was, and how Severus was...well, she might be persuaded to hint how Severus was at least.

* * *

Lucius had been quite right in his assumption - Albus Dumbledore _did_ know he was there, and _was_ watching to see what the blond did. But whilst the Headmaster had the right to see and hear what went on in most areas of the castle, the Hospital Wing was one area that was considered sacrosanct. Thus, when Lucius entered into Poppy's domain, Albus Dumbledore found himself once more blind and dumb to whatever was going on.

* * *

Of all the people that Poppy Pomfrey might have expected to walk, unaccompanied and unannounced, into her Hospital Wing, Lucius Malfoy was not high on the list. She didn't need to wonder what it was about, of course, for she was quite aware that Draco Malfoy was still playing up to his 'terrible injury'. But she did have to wonder if that was _all_ Lucius was here to enquire about...

"Good afternoon Poppy, I trust you are well?" One thing Poppy could always say about Lucius, she thought, smiling faintly as he bent over her hand, was that his manners had never slipped again after that summer. Of course, she knew all too well _why_ his manners had never slipped again. The thought sobered her normal, stern expression back onto her face.

"Very well, thank you Lucius. I trust both you and Narcissa are also well?" Lucius smiled at her, a genuine smile that some might have been surprised to see, but that Poppy knew quite well - along with some of the other emotions that the rest of the wizarding world might be surprised to learn Lucius Malfoy actually possessed.

"Splendidly." His smile was just a little too wide, too bright, however, for that word to not have deeper connotations. Poppy found herself beaming back as she seated herself, the happiness contagious.

"Again?" Lucius nodded, also sitting down, obviously struggling and failing to rein his excitement in. "Oh, that's wonderful news!" But much as Poppy would have loved to drag him into her office for a detailed chat about the new baby, she knew it would have to wait. There was just too great a risk of monitoring spells - no matter how hard she tried to keep her Hospital Wing clean of them. "But you didn't come here to tell me that, I'm sure." The change was immediate, the emotion draining from Lucius' expression as though it had never been there.

"No, I didn't. I heard Draco managed to injure himself in a lesson...?" Poppy nodded, a slight grin twitching at the edges of her mouth.

"That he did, and as fine an injury as any you managed to acquire it was too." There was a gleam of pride deep in Lucius eyes at that comment, for they both knew that he had been particularly adept at gaining injuries that looked far worse than they actually were. "I hear he insulted one of Hagrid's Hippogriff's and got the length of his forearm laid open to the bone as a result." Lucius winced. He might have managed to acquire some impressive injuries, but he'd never done it in a way that could potentially backfire so catastrophically.

"Well...I trust the injury is healing as well as can be expected." Poppy chuckled at that.

"Oh yes, exactly as well as can be expected." Her expression sobered however, and she cast a privacy charm around them before she spoke again. "I don't think Draco is the only person whose well being you want to ask about though, is it?" Lucius shook his head slowly.

"No...it's not... How has Severus been?" Poppy shook her head sadly.

"I can't really say, but he hasn't been in here on a regular basis, which may be a good sign...or not." Lucius closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and letting it out before he trusted his voice.

"It's probably a bad sign...but it's out of my hands now...out of all our hands..." He startled slightly as Poppy's cool hand eased on top of his tightly clasped hands.

"I watch him, Lucius. I watch him and I have the paintings watch him - those I know I can trust anyway. As soon as I feel that the limit has been reached, I will leave. I will take him with me and flee to the Halls of Healing. I am certain that, Death Eater or not, his case will be heard fairly if I sponsor his petition for sanctuary..." Lucius' expression, grateful, but hopeless, stopped the flow of words, the flow of plans.

"You cannot take him with you unless he asks your aid." He reminded her, a reminder that was like an iron fist to the gut. "And he cannot ask your aid unless his will is his own." Poppy slumped back into her chair with a heavy sigh. She had realised at the back of her mind, of course, but still, the truth was a bitter blow...

"Lucius..." The aristocrat was standing, ready to leave, but he paused as she called his name. "I will do, what little I can, without jeopardising my position here." He nodded, expression well hidden behind the Malfoy facade now.

"That is all I could ever ask, Poppy. I will pass your good wishes on to Narcissa." Poppy watched as he tipped his hat to her, and then slipped quietly out of the Hospital Wing. She stared at the closed doors, looking suddenly like giant guards. But who did they guard from whom?

* * *

It was not hard to find Draco, for Lucius had memorised his son's timetable, and, being an ex-governor, also knew where the classrooms were. Extracting Draco from the lesson, however, would be a bit more challenging, not of itself, but for the fact that he would have to face Severus...

Pulling himself together, Lucius Malfoy rapped on the door of the potions classroom, and then opened it wide enough to be seen.

"Severus, I require a word with Draco, if it does not inconvenience you." Severus raised an eyebrow, but then looked across at Draco.

"Well Mr Malfoy, get your things. Miss Granger!" Half the class jumped at the snapped name. "Since you appear to have time to gossip with Mr Weasley, perhaps you also have time to manage two sets of the potion."

"But Sir..." Draco slipped out of the door at that point, closing it behind him and cutting off the rest of what would no doubt be a short-lived argument.

"Father?"

"Come Draco." Lucius led the way outside, using the time as they walked to decide just how much to say. All too quickly they reached the lake, where Lucius paused.

"Father?" Draco asked again, expression curious. This wasn't how visits from his father usually went.

"I spoke with Madame Pomfrey - she was quite impressed by your injury." The arched eyebrow, Draco knew, was an invitation to explain himself - for better or worse. He swallowed slightly.

"It sounded important that you be able to visit as soon as possible. I decided to take advantage of the opportunity presented." He shrugged, hoping his explanation made events sound more well-planned than the accident they had been. He was started by a quiet chuckle from his father.

"Well done Draco." It appeared his mother was right, Lucius thought wryly, he could learn - and apply that learning - when he wanted to. He allowed the faintest expression of approval to show on his face, watching how Draco's whole demeanour seemed to glow with pride. "Now, let me give you a couple of warnings. Severus is not as close an ally as you think, not at the moment." Draco blinked in surprise, but Lucius held up a hand to prevent any questions. "If you find yourself in danger - not merely trouble - then go to Madame Pomfrey and ask for sanctuary on the grounds of threat to your person." Draco, recognising the formal request, blanched.

"Are things that dangerous, father?" Lucius' expression was grim.

"Not yet, hopefully never yet, but that doesn't mean you should be unprepared." Draco nodded, suddenly feeling a lot older than his thirteen years. "Now, you should be getting back to your classes before the Headmaster comes looking for you." Draco nodded again and turned away, back to the school.

"Father...thank you." He called over his shoulder, then broke into a run and dashed for the school steps. Lucius watched him go, a slight smile on his face. Oh to be young again, he thought.

* * *

The first month of term had passed quickly, almost unnaturally so it seemed to Lupin. He was still suffering from exhaustion in the week prior to the full moon, and the week after, although to his relief it had remained at a level where he could still function. Privately - it wouldn't do to offend the Potions Master more than the grudge the other man already held - he was also still blaming the Wolfsbane.

But of greater concern - at least at the moment - was the fact that he'd now had every student in Hogwarts in a lesson - more than once - and he was willing to swear that _none_ of them were Harry Potter. Now, whilst he could understand if Harry had been sent somewhere else for his schooling this year - Sirius Black was not a threat to take lightly after all - what he _couldn't_ understand was the lack of concern this had caused. Children gossiped, even when told not to, even when warned that gossip could endanger lives. They were constantly reassured that Hogwarts was the safest place in the Wizarding world, so why should they fear over something as trivial as talk? But he hadn't heard a single reference to Harry Potter, or his absence from the school that year.

He'd kept his ears especially open after Draco Malfoy had his run-in with Buckbeak; it was highly unlikely that Harry would have let the incident pass without comment, and yet neither Ronald Weasley nor Hermione Granger - both of whom Lupin could see as becoming close friends with Harry given half a chance - had said anything along the lines of 'if Harry were here'...

Of course, all that was based on the assumption that Harry had turned out anything like his mother. Given the poor boy had been sent to Lily's sister to raise...well, he could still hope. Even if he _had_ turned out more like his father, or - Gods forbid - like another Draco Malfoy - unlikely since he'd been raised by muggles and was nearly muggleborn himself - it was still all too easy to reach the disturbing conclusion that he had. Harry Potter was not, and never had been, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

At least, on the subject of the Malfoy heir, he had decided that he'd recovered from that 'life-threatening' cut on his arm. Remus snorted, the subsequent deep breath almost causing him to choke on the scents that, this close to the full moon, were almost overpowering. In his wolf form it wouldn't, ironically, be quite so bad, since his brain would be correctly configured to comprehend and deal with the overload of his senses. But the full moon itself was not quite upon him, and so, well aware that the wolf was the ideal form if it became necessary to flee, Lupin decided that the time had come to risk questioning Albus Dumbledore...

* * *

It was easy, large as the school was, to track down Albus by following the pungent scent that the Headmaster's ever-present bag of sherbet lemons left. Unsurprisingly, the other man didn't seem surprised to see him.

* * *

"Albus, I've been meaning to speak with you. I couldn't help but notice the distinct lack of the name 'Harry Potter' on my class registers." Lupin's voice was curious, confused even, but not yet worried or suspicious. Dumbledore twinkled benignly at him. obviously Lupin wasn't too concerned, since it had taken him a good month to come to him with this question, and he'd had ample opportunity to ask before now.

"Of course not dear boy. With Mr. Black on the loose, well, that would be a most unfortunate name to have indeed. Don't you think?" He grinned at the understanding dawning on the werewolf's face. "Sherbet lemon?" He held the sweets out, well aware that the other would be unable to scent his emotions through the tart odour.

"No, thank you Albus." The DADA Professor inclined his head slightly, looking slightly nauseated by the smell that had to be almost overwhelming this close to the full moon, then turned and left the office as quietly as he had entered, seemingly placated...for now.

It was only when the Gargoyle announced that Lupin had indeed left, that Dumbledore succumbed to the impulse to put his head in his hands and groan. He was starting to regret tempting fate by thinking this would be a restful year.

Moody was on the watch for the Phantoms; he would either catch them or act as a preventative for any actions they might otherwise have taken. Lucius Malfoy had already - not a fortnight into term - managed to inveigle his way into Hogwarts to see Snape, under the pretence of seeing how badly his son had been injured; the blond Death Eater had gained nothing there, except maybe some slight knowledge of Severus' punishment. Severus Snape himself was performing exactly as expected, giving nothing away to anyone - including Lucius - and making the Wolfsbane - with its additives - as required by Lupin; no, Snape he didn't have to worry about at all this year, there wasn't enough left of the man to act any way other than he'd been told to. Remus Lupin...well, there was his unexpected problem. Lupin had picked up on the Potter boy's absence far too quickly, but at least he seemed satisfied with the suggestion that the boy was there under a pseudonym. Still, if it seemed that the werewolf had figured out what was going on, he would simply ensure that Snape altered the Wolfsbane potion accordingly. And then there was Sirius Black...

Black had been hidden from his attempts to scry him out with the Janus' Mirror, just as Harry Potter had been. On the plus side, that meant Black was unlikely to actually come to Hogwarts, what with already knowing the Phantoms had Harry safe and sound and in training. Unless, of course, that was what the Phantoms _wanted_ him to think. It was entirely possible that Black had been shielded without his knowledge, that he didn't know who had Harry, and thus was coming to Hogwarts in order to try and find him... If that was the case, well, at least either way he wouldn't have to worry about the Phantoms' direct involvement, and Lupin _did_ still think Sirius had been the one to sell out the Potters to Voldemort. He could only pray that Pettigrew - if he _was_ still alive - didn't suddenly turn up and, through his very presence, rip wide open several very flimsy schemes.

Albus sighed, suddenly glad that he'd denied Hermione Granger's request to use a time-turner in order to take more classes than would fit into her timetable. At least he didn't have to worry about impulsive Gryffindors - other than himself of course - taking it upon themselves to start fiddling around with the timeline.

* * *

Lupin waited until he was back in his private rooms before he allowed even the slightest hint of his true feelings to show in his expression. Albus was hiding something from him, something to do with Harry, he was certain. In fact, if anything he was even more convinced that his earlier conclusion - disturbing as it was - and the supporting evidence for it, was correct.

Oh, certainly his excuse made sense, but as he'd reasoned before, this was a school, and children couldn't keep a secret of this magnitude, no matter what they were told was at stake, or who told them to keep quiet. Neither did they have convenient bags of sherbet lemons - or other strongly scented confectionaries - with which to conceal the scent of deception. That there _was_ no scent of deception - certainly not of a magnitude to be due to a secret of this nature - was telling. No, there was no Harry Potter in Hogwarts, either by that name or another, and, as he was now convinced, there never had been.

Which left the question of where Harry was, and why, because surely Hogwarts, with Albus Dumbledore as the Headmaster, was the safest place for him? In fact, if it hadn't been that he was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and thus would have been notified if something had happened to 'the-boy-who-lived', Lupin might have been tempted to pay the Dursleys a visit with a few pointed questions. But he _was_ a member of the Order, and he trusted the Headmaster to always act for the greater good. Wherever Harry was concealed, he was certain the boy was safe...from all those who might wish him harm, and it was certainly true that the fewer people actually knew where he was, the safer he would be. If Albus had chosen, for whatever reason, not to include him in the select few who knew the truth, well, although it hurt slightly, he could understand. He may have taken issue with Albus' methods in the past - and probably would again in the future - but he trusted the man not to do something foolish, such as attempting to cover up the fact if Voldemort returned or Harry vanished...

All of which meant that Harry Potter, whilst an important mystery, was not quite at the top of Lupin's 'mystery priority list', for it was certainly not the only mystery to have presented itself for his attention, even if it was, when you looked at it, the root cause for most of the other mysteries. The complete lack of extra monitoring spells, for example. If, as the Headmaster had intimated, Harry Potter was hidden away under a pseudonym - at Hogwarts or not - then that still meant they were expecting Sirius to come to Hogwarts after him. The Headmaster was quite aware that Sirius was a former Marauder - the group of whom had known all the secret ins and outs of the castle? So why no monitoring spells? Why did he seem not to expect Sirius to break into the school itself?

* * *

Sirius Black...

They had been friends, once, what seemed a lifetime ago now, Lupin mused to himself. A lifetime ago and a world away; back when the Marauders had been the terror of Hogwarts, when Voldemort had yet been the boogieman their parents scared them into bed with, an intangible threat with no more substance than a name...to them at least. Those last carefree years seemed almost an eternity ago, not a mere two decades...

They had thought little of Voldemort, less of their brash outspoken words against the ideals they were told he stood for. The rising activity of the Death Eaters hadn't concerned them, not whilst they were students, children still...but it _had_ concerned them, eventually...fatally.

Lupin still couldn't understand why...why Sirius had turned on them, why he, a werewolf for Merlin's sake, hadn't been able to smell the treachery on him. But right to the bitter end Sirius had always smelt of coffee and cinnamon; strong, passionate smells - not what he would have ever associated with a traitor. Peter Pettigrew, well, poor Peter had always been in a nervous sweat over _something_, whether real or imagined, always sucking on the aniseed sweets that seemed to help calm his nerves. And James...James Potter, betrayed by the man he always claimed as his 'brother'... James had smelt of apples and mint; determined and mischievous, always ready to pull a prank, always with a smile in his eyes, a laugh on his lips, and love in his heart...

* * *

Sighing, Lupin forced himself back into the present. Of the four Marauders there were only the two left, himself - the werewolf, the outcast - and Sirius - the traitor, the Azkaban escapee... Peter had died in his grief-stricken attempt to take revenge; Sirius always had been the best - after James of course - at duelling and offensive magics, that was why Remus had gone out and learned as much as he could, from as many as he could. He _would_ have revenge for the deaths of his friends...

He had to wonder though, why Sirius had broken out _now_. Obviously he was sane enough to have planned an escape but Lupin was grimly certain that, had he truly wished to escape, he wouldn't have needed to wait twelve years for an opportunity. So why _now_? What had he seen - or overheard - to make him break for it? Had he somehow learned that his master, Voldemort, was attempting to resurrect himself?

A knock on the door drew him out of his musings this time. It was a cold, professional, unfeeling knock that nonetheless spoke volumes about the reluctance of the knocker to be knocking. Lupin knew instantly who it was and why they were there.

"Come in Severus." He called, voice reflecting his weariness. The door opened slowly, and the Potions Master stepped inside, visibly resenting that he had to be there. He was carrying a plain-looking goblet of liquid, which was smoking ominously.

"Your potion, Lupin. I have a cauldronful should you require more." Snape's voice was devoid of emotion, as were his eyes...too devoid of emotion. Lupin's eyes narrowed, but he accepted the goblet and drank its contents with no more comment than a grimace of distaste. Apparently satisfied by seeing the DADA Professor drink the potion, Snape left, not bothering to take the empty goblet - in which the dregs of the Wolfsbane were still smoking - with him.

And there, thought Lupin, staring in bafflement at the door Severus had just left through, went the _other_ mystery at Hogwarts...

* * *

The rest of October passed without any further incidents of note...besides the inevitable chaos with the catnip-dosed Scabbers and Minerva McGonagall - in her animagus form of course. Oh, how he'd howled with laughter - once safely behind a silencing spell in his own quarters - at that. It was a memory that he would cherish forever. He had, of course, caught hell from her for not warning her in advance, but as Albus had pointed out, no harm had been done - well, not much anyway - and the incident had lightened the spirits of all who witnessed, or indeed had been told about it. Snape, however, who would once have turned his acerbic wit to ensuring McGonagall didn't quickly forget about her faux pas, had been uncharacteristically silent on the matter.

Lupin just couldn't figure out what was going on with the Potions Master.

Still, Severus had managed to pull off his entirely characteristic disappearing act now that the Halloween Ball was here. It was strange, the way he was suddenly acting - and not acting in Minerva's case - and although he knew the other man might have good reason - he would be one of the first to know if Voldemort's rise was imminent, and Lupin didn't doubt that Albus would ask him to spy once more - it still didn't make sense. Something was seriously not right, all his instincts confirmed it, but he couldn't for the life of him put his finger on exactly what was wrong. Until Snape said anything to anyone however, it would likely remain a mystery.

A slightly bitter smile crossed his lips as he spotted Dean Thomas dressed as a wolfman, and he let his thoughts drift from mysteries that he couldn't solve into memories of Halloween Balls past.

* * *

Sirius had to admit, if only to himself, that he was making a lot of assumptions that might, possibly, be wrong. For instance, there was the assumption that Harry had been sent to Lily's sister's - an assumption that had seen him get lost several times as he tried to find the place called Little Whinging. Harry hadn't been there when he'd finally found it, and a storm had - almost conveniently - wiped out any traces that he might've been there in the past. So, knowing that his target would be coming to Hogwarts - amazing the trivia in newspapers that could suddenly become pivotal information - and on the assumption, once more, that so too would Harry be coming to Hogwarts, Sirius had also made his way there.

He'd been highly disconcerted to find that Dumbledore - whom he'd felt certain would toss any notion of Dementors on Hogwarts grounds out on its ear - had actually agreed to a compromise; Dementors stationed _around_ Hogwarts grounds. Of course, it hadn't really caused him to alter his plans, not by much. He could protect himself - to a degree - from the Dementors effects by becoming Padfoot, and the same transformation would enable him to slip past them without drawing their notice.

Perhaps, once upon a time, Sirius might have simply made his way to Albus Dumbledore, revealed himself and begged for a chance to prove his innocence under Veritaserum. But not after 12 years in Azkaban. Twelve years in which he'd had more than enough time to contemplate the events leading to his incarceration. It was almost certain that no one except Pettigrew, the other Death Eaters who knew who Pettigrew was and that he was a Death Eater, and He-who-must-not-be-named himself knew - or probably even suspected - his innocence. That being the case, along with the fact that he had escaped from Azkaban, it was almost certain that whoever captured him would either kill him on the spot, or hand him over to a Dementor to be kissed in short order.

No, without evidence he could not be certain that he would live long enough to persuade someone - anyone - that he was innocent. He figured that the corpse of Peter Pettigrew - supposedly dead these twelve years - would do nicely as evidence. It was, truth be told, the only hope he had of freedom - other than death - and he was almost embarrassed that it had taken him nearly a month of life on the run to realise that dying in pursuit of revenge might not be his only option.

That was why, on the one night he knew he could count on everyone - with the exception of Argus Filtch and his cat - to be out of the way, Sirius Black, aka Padfoot, had made his way into the school - via a secret passageway - and to the portrait of the Fat Lady, who had always, and still, guarded the entrance into Gryffindor Tower.

Unfortunately, whilst she hadn't gone screaming for help despite recognising him, she was also adamant about not letting him into the Tower without the correct password. Frustrated beyond belief - all he'd wanted was to, if he couldn't catch a glimpse of Harry, at least determine through his scent that he was okay - Sirius transformed back into Padfoot before rearing up and bringing his paws to rest either side of the Fat Lady's face. He was quite aware that his nails were long and ragged, and so was she if the way she ducked out of the painting with an unholy screech was any indication. Feeling somewhat vindictive, he dragged his claws down the canvas anyway, ripping it to shreds before turning and bounding away.

* * *

The realisation that Sirius Black not only could, but _had_ infiltrated Hogwarts, was a deeply disturbing one for Albus Dumbledore. Thankfully the Fat Lady had valiantly refused to let Black enter the Tower itself, although she was now so traumatised that he'd been forced to replace her with another guard portrait. Sir Cadogan wasn't, perhaps, the sanest of the portraits in Hogwarts, but he, like the Fat Lady, would be quite resolute in not admitting anyone without the correct password.

Still, for tonight, whilst they searched the castle in case Black had gone to ground in the building itself - unlikely but not impossible - the students would have to sleep in the Great Hall.

* * *

"Did you let Black into the castle?" For a moment Lupin thought he'd misheard the question, but then it was repeated, slightly more forcefully, and this time he couldn't deny the recognition of the voice. He stopped in his tracks - he had maybe half an hour before the moon became a real threat - and blessed the heightening of his senses.

"No." The answer was bland, emotionless. Remus felt his stomach lurch as he recognised the voice...barely. Snape. But why the hell did the Headmaster even _suspect_ that Severus and Sirius might have cooperated? There was the potential, of course, that the blinding hatred the two held for each other might have been a cover - but he sincerely doubted it. Snape wasn't a Death Eater, or rather, had been a spy according to Albus' testimony...

"Dammit - do you know who did?" Albus was sounding most unlike himself...was it possible that someone had taken his place using polyjuice? No, it couldn't be. Besides, he'd suspected in the past that Albus might have a few different sides that he didn't usually let anyone see.

"No." Again the too-bland response.

"Do you _suspect_ who did?" Lupin's hackles rose. There was only ever one reason for rephrasing a question so minutely.

"Yes." Remus felt his stomach lurch again, this time badly enough that he lifted a hand to his mouth in involuntary reaction.

"_Who_?" Albus was sounding impatient now, and more than a little angry.

"Himself." There was nothing he could do at this moment in time; if Severus had taken Veritaserum then it had to be at Albus' behest, but why would the Headmaster deem it necessary to subject his spy to Veritaserum interrogation - in the corridors at that - about whether he'd aided a Death Eater and personal enemy? Lupin had the sudden and overwhelming suspicion that the mysteries he'd previously thought were complete and separate - and largely inconsequential - were actually just the tip of the same iceberg.

Needing to think, but also needing to prepare for the rise of the full moon, Lupin hurried on his way. He could only hope that neither Albus nor Severus knew or suspected that he'd overheard their 'conversation'.

* * *

Distracted by the bizarre and worrying conversation between the Headmaster and the Potions Master that he had, unwittingly, overheard, it wasn't until he was leaving the shrieking shack to return to the castle that Remus Lupin caught - and recognised - the familiar scent. He'd not seen the ruins of the Fat Lady's portrait, although he'd heard Pomona Sprout describing it to Flitwick as looking like a wild animal had attacked it. Truly it _had_ been a wild animal; a large black dog to be precise. He'd forgotten about Sirius being an animagus, in his determination to forget as much about the traitor as he could, but now that he _had_ remembered it put him in a quandary. Had he recalled prior to overhearing the strange conversation between Albus and Severus, then he would undoubtedly have informed Albus, but now...

Now he was suddenly wary of every shadow, every nuance of conversation, even of the students he was teaching. There were dark undercurrents at work in Hogwarts, and Lupin wasn't about to commit himself in _any_ direction before he could be certain that doing so wouldn't be the equivalent of signing his own death warrant. No, he would watch for Padfoot himself, but he would keep the knowledge close to his chest, for now at least.

* * *

Whilst it was well known that anyone, staff, student or even ghost or portrait, could talk to Poppy Pomfrey in complete confidence, it was still very rarely that any did so. It still came as little surprise to the Mediwitch, however, when Minerva McGonagall slipped into the Hospital Wing one evening and hesitantly asked if they could talk in private. The presence of the Deputy Headmistress, asking to talk to her where she would normally have spoken to Albus Dumbledore, seemed to confirm Poppy's suspicions. Dumbledore's supporters were starting to open their eyes and see the truth of his methods. Admittedly, Minerva's eyes had been opened by a combination of Severus planting seeds of suspicion, and then Poppy herself removing the most recent of a series of memory blocks, but her eyes _were_ open now, and it seemed that she had no inclination to close them again of her own will.

"It is always better to be safe than sorry." Poppy explained, casting a privacy charm over them both once they had entered her office. "Not even the Headmaster can break the confidentiality wards on myself or the Hospital Wing, and that will take care of anything 'lying around' in here." Her smile was thin-lipped and bitter; a clear statement that she was not happy that the privacy charm was necessary.

"Thank you Poppy." Minerva breathed a slight sigh of relief, some of her worried tension dissipating at the openly offered reassurance. There was a long silence. "And now I don't know where to begin!" Minerva gave a depreciating huff of laughter, staring up at the ceiling as though it might hold a clue, or an answer. It was strange, Poppy thought, to see the normally prim and proper professor looking so lost and uncertain.

"Why don't you start at the beginning and work from there?" Minerva blinked at the advice, but it seemed to ground her a little, and she nodded.

"Yes..." She smirked suddenly. "I hope you have all night free."

* * *

Minerva, Poppy thought tiredly, contemplating the Pepper-Up potions, hadn't been joking about needing all night. They had talked, or rather, Minerva had talked well into the early hours of the morning, Poppy only interrupting now and then to make the other woman examine her feelings on a particular point more closely. Still, the Deputy Headmistress had left with a determined expression on her face that suggested, whatever she had actually been agonising over, she had made her decision.

Poppy, however, had also learnt some useful information on Minerva's slowly changing allegiances. Not that she could openly tell anyone, nor would she even had she not been bound by her oaths, but she _could_ tell people to speak to each other...

* * *

Another full moon had been and gone, and Lupin was still no closer to finding a reason for the conversation between Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore. Snape's scent was still that too-flat stench of potions, not abnormal for a Potions Master, admittedly, but still, Lupin _knew_ the other man's nature wouldn't have let him either forget or forgive their past history; so why couldn't he smell either fear or anger?

He knew far better, now, than to go to either Albus or Severus directly and confront them about the matter. Especially if his suspicions were anywhere close to correct. It was a horrifying thought that had occurred to him, some weeks after he'd overheard the conversation, and whilst he hated to think that it might be the answer...he was no longer able to dismiss it entirely either. After all, who would want to think that the powerful icon of the light, the defeater of Grindelwald, Albus Dumbledore, would stoop to controlling someone through an unforgivable - or something close enough to _not_ be seen as the same thing in court, but still have the same effect.

It made, reluctant as he was to admit it, everything else fall so much more neatly into place. They only had Albus' word that Severus had been a spy, and if the younger man _hadn't_ been a spy, well, he wouldn't be acting the role he was except under duress. Lupin hadn't grown up a part of the group that had considered Snape a mortal enemy without learning a lot about the other man, just as, had he been in his right - or own - mind, he knew that Snape could have revealed a lot about him. Or any of the others... But if Snape was here under duress, then he certainly wouldn't be going out of his way to help Albus figure out how Sirius had gotten into the castle, hence the Veritaserum.

He sighed, mentally contemplating the Gordian knot that he'd uncovered. Or at least, that he _thought_ he'd uncovered. Maybe it was just him being paranoid, and Snape being reticent...no...he couldn't afford to give the Headmaster the benefit of the doubt, not when, potentially, he would be gambling with his own life. After all, his death could be quite easily spun into a heroic tale of saving the children from a ravenous beast that had infiltrated the castle.

So how, he wondered, to find out the truth? Albus was out, as was Severus, and something of this magnitude was unlikely to have been bandied about amongst the staff. Minerva...was an unknown factor, but too close to Albus to risk rousing her suspicions. Poppy was bound by her confidentiality oath, so unless he could trick her into revealing more than she should...not that he would do that; he'd seen the consequences of breaking a confidentially oath... Lupin shuddered at the memory. Short of talking to a Death Eater close to Snape...he blinked, blindsided by the realisation that had just occurred. Snape and Malfoy had long been rumoured to be more than just 'good friends', so if anyone was going to know anything, it would most likely be Lucius Malfoy...who also just happened to owe him a life debt...

* * *

Hogsmeade had been, as usual on a weekend when the Hogwarts students were allowed out, packed to overflowing. Madame Rosmerta, proprietor of the Three Broomsticks, had been rushed off her feet all morning, and so, when the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge himself, had invited her to join him and his small group of companions, she had readily accepted.

She thought, now that she had closed up for the night and actually had time to think about what she'd learned, that in retrospect she might have been better off politely declining.

Whilst it was common knowledge that the notorious Sirius Black had managed to do the impossible and escape from Azkaban prison, and whilst it was also common knowledge that the man was a Death Eater who had been laughing as the Aurors arrested him for the deaths of an entire _street_ of muggles, it seemed the full extent of his crimes were _not_ common knowledge. She still couldn't quite believe it, that the two boys she, like everyone else who had known them, had jokingly always referred to as brothers, had...had... The sob burst out of her mouth involuntarily, loud in the silence. What sort of monster was Black, really, that he could pretend to be so close to someone for so long, and then turn around and hand them over to You-Know-Who, knowing what would happen...knowing that their child - his _godson_ for Merlin's sake! - would not be spared their fate... Or at least, believing that their child would not be spared their fate for, of course, something had gone spectacularly awry in You-Know-Who's plans, and he had been defeated by that very same child.

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived; a name said and thought with as much reverence and honour as 'You-Know-Who' garnered hatred and fear. And that, Rosmerta thought, sitting down with a glass of firewhisky and taking a deep breath as she prepared to face her roiling thoughts, was where she had learned what she wished she hadn't learned...

Madame Ayita Rosmerta Embers, who had taken great pains to ensure that she was only known as 'Madame Rosmerta', had been a barkeeper for a little over 30 years; well over half her lifetime. She had not, in the course of those years, gone without picking up the tricks of the trade, little skills such as an aura that encouraged people to open up, the ability to read between the lines of what was said, the instinctual knowledge of when to say something and what to say, and, of course, the ability to remember _everything_. Not just everything in terms of bar orders or names, or even the orders of regular customers, but everything in terms of everything she heard and saw, consciously and unconsciously, as though her mind was some sort of organic pensieve. This ability had developed over time of course, not been magically gifted to her upon becoming a barkeeper, and so whilst she remembered those of her first customers who had been regulars, it was not with any great clarity, nor could she recall the one-offs or infrequent visitors. At times such as these, she recalled that lack of memory with great fondness.

There was something...off...about the way Cornelius' group had acted once the name 'Harry Potter' had been brought up. It was only slight, and she wished she could pass it off as nothing more than the group being close mouthed...but, the way they had quite openly discussed details of Sirius Black made it unlikely. Filius Flitwick had been the only one of the three to react how she might have expected, for both Minerva McGonagall and Cornelius Fudge had stiffened slightly, identical frowns of confusion flashing over their faces so fast that, at the time, she had wilfully passed it off as her imagination. Something very strange, and very covert, was going on. Something to do with Harry Potter, and something that she had unwittingly stumbled upon...

Rosmerta grimaced and tossed back the last of her firewhisky. If whoever was involved in whatever was going on could get to both the Minister of Magic and the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, well, they would have no trouble reaching her. All she could do, rather than making a run for it and attracting attention, would be to sit tight, carry on as normal, and hope that no one ever realised what she had discovered...

* * *

Given where and when the conversation between the Minister and his companions had occurred, not to mention the subject matter, it was little surprise that everything had been overheard by several Hogwarts students. It was even less of a surprise that, consequently, the story of Sirius Black's betrayal had spread throughout Hogwarts before the end of the day. But still, Lupin noticed, idly eavesdropping on the chattering groups of students he was supervising as they waited for the Hogwarts Express, there was no comment on Harry Potter - besides murmurs of horror and pity that was.

It was that lack of response that finally convinced him he wasn't imagining things, that he wasn't just being deceived by an incredibly good disguise, and that Harry Potter really, truly, _honestly_ wasn't at Hogwarts, and never had been. But why? Lupin wondered. The only people who would be deceived would be those not in touch with anyone who had a child a Hogwarts, which was virtually no one given the size of the English magical community. Surely Sirius' escape hadn't been anticipated...or worse, _planned_? No, he shook his head, Albus surely wasn't _that_ far gone, even if he had stooped to controlling others...

The thoughts and theories, points and counter-points chased themselves in circles about his head, and Lupin knew he had to either speak them out loud, bounce them off another person's perspective, or go crazy. Once upon a time he would have gone to the Headmaster directly, either to confront him and ask him in person - considering it involved the Headmaster himself - or to ask his council - if it had not involved him. Now though...now the very thought of the possible consequences made him shudder. No, the Headmaster would not learn of his suspicions until he was well out of harms way, or protected against the possible consequences.

As his mind ran over the remaining teachers, Lupin quickly realised that there was only one person he could talk to in complete confidence...

* * *

Poppy listened and watched in silence as Lupin paced up and down the length of her office, quietly, but with increasing emotion, expounding on his theories and confusion. The students had all left to spend Christmas with their families, all but a very few, and the same went for the teachers, so there was little worry that someone would suddenly require her attention. That fact had not, however, stopped her from practicing the same caution she had shown with Lucius and Minerva.

Poppy watched with concern as Lupin gave a great sigh of relief, finally coming to the end of his rant, and collapsed exhaustedly into a chair. He passed a hand across his eyes before he met her concerned gaze and offered her a wry grin of apology.

"I'm sorry Poppy, I just needed to get everything off my chest." She smiled gently at him. "But," his expression turned sorrowful, "I'm right, aren't I? Albus...isn't the man he used to be, is he? I _fear_ this Albus Dumbledore - I had no fear of the Albus Dumbledore that defied everyone to allow a werewolf an education..." Poppy was silent a moment, contemplating whether she could say anything. Finally she decided that she could, that her opinion, based on her knowledge of the man and his actions, not on her knowledge of his medical state, would not be a breach of her oaths.

"He is no longer the Albus Dumbledore I used to know either." She agreed. Lupin nodded, thankfully not pushing for details. "I would offer my aid, but..." He stopped her with a raised hand and a slightly pained expression.

"I know the prejudices of the Healer Hall." Poppy winced. His tone was soft, but bitter, and even if she _knew_ that bitterness was not aimed at her, it still hurt her...professional pride, to know that her fellow healers could so casually decide their oaths applied to some but not others. She was surprised to suddenly feel a comforting hand on her shoulder, unaware of quite how hard she had taken his words. "I don't hold it against you Poppy, you know that. You are a credit to your craft." She smiled wryly up at him."

"Flattery will get you nowhere Mister Lupin." She warned, realising that her tease had hit closer to the mark than she had expected when he looked suddenly embarrassed. She didn't push though, waiting patiently to see whether he would raise or leave the matter.

"Would you be able," he asked slowly, "to tell me whether you'd ever had a certain person come in here - not necessarily for treatment?" She stared at him, knowing that he could only, from his earlier ranting, be referring to one person in particular. Could she? Certainly she could if she knew that, whilst they had been into the Hospital Wing, it had not been for treatment of any kind - which, if it was who she thought it was, they had not. Also if they genuinely had not been into the Hospital Wing, then it would pose no conflict. But if they had...? Well, as long as she said only that they had been into the Hospital Wing or not, then it gave no information other than that...yes, she could do that.

"I think...I think I can do that." She agreed. "What is their name?"

"Harry Potter." She had been expecting it, so her expression didn't change as she answered.

"No. No one bearing that name has ever been into the Hospital Wing."

* * *

Lupin hadn't bothered asking anything about Severus Snape. Even if Poppy _did_ know what was going on with the Potions Master, her oaths would prevent her from answering anything more specific than whether the man had ever been in the Hospital Wing. Considering he knew perfectly well that he had been - he'd been responsible for sending him there many, many years ago, although the 'injury' had thankfully been purely psychological - it was a moot question. In many ways the question about Harry had been moot as well. He was already certain that the boy had never been within Hogwart's walls, but that he had never been in the Hospital Wing...well, it was almost an unwritten rule that every student had visited the Hospital Wing at least once by the end of their second year.

"Remus." Poppy's voice halted him in the doorway, and he half turned to look at her curiously, wondering what she had to add. "It might not hurt to speak to Minerva." There was a long pause whilst they looked at each other, Lupin wondering and hoping that he had inferred correctly that he was not the only one expressing doubts.

"Maybe I'll invite her for tea one of these evenings." He finally said, knowing as he said it that he would do just that...in a few weeks maybe. He began to wonder, as he left the Hospital Wing and headed back to his quarters, just whose side Poppy Pomfrey was on...

* * *

Christmas came and went without incident, something Dumbledore was grateful for, even if it did leave him wondering what, exactly, all his enemies were plotting and planning. He had heard nothing from Mad-Eye Moody, either for good or bad, which either meant the ex-Auror had yet to find something of note, or that the ex-Auror was actually a Phantom himself... No, Albus was certain Moody was still loyal, after all, he _knew_ the Phantoms were exceedingly cunning when it came to remaining undiscovered. He had also heard nothing to indicate that Voldemort had any plans in action, something that seemed too good to be true, until he thought about how badly the setbacks of the previous two years had likely struck the incapacitated Dark Lord. Albus was fairly confident, now that Lucius had failed to sneak into the castle again, that he had nothing to worry about on that front this year.

Sirius Black, of course, was still the fly in the proverbial ointment, and _still_ at large. He hadn't managed to discover how the man had snuck into the castle at Halloween, but so far that had been the only 'attack'. Albus wondered whether it was a tactic, to make them relax their guard once again. Then again, as a wanted fugitive, Sirius had to be struggling for supplies and somewhere to rest. It was, Albus thought, a supremely fortunate thing that only the body of Peter Pettigrew could cause enough doubt for Veritaserum to be used on Black, since that would reveal the man's innocence of any wrongdoing. Well, aside from breaking out of Azkaban, but Albus knew he could get away with the sympathy card on that one.

Despite having his concerns on the larger scale, Albus Dumbledore hadn't missed the sudden increase in staff members exorcising their rights to speak confidentially to Poppy Pomfrey, namely Minerva and Remus. It was cause for a little concern, for he had no way of knowing what they spoke about, nor what Poppy said to them in return, but it didn't concern him overmuch. After all, just as Poppy could not tell him what they spoke about to her, neither could she tell anyone else who spoke to her. Besides, he knew he could simply obliviate Minerva once more should her suspicions grow too large, and Lupin he could do away with entirely - something he knew the other would realise should his suspicions grow so deep. No one else mattered, really; they had followed his lead for so long that it was nearly habit, and habits, as Albus well knew, were hard to break.

Still, it would be...inconvenient if he had to dispose of Lupin before the werewolf had finished teaching his knowledge to Granger and the youngest Weasley son. Perhaps it would be prudent, he decided, to move up the timetable of Lupin's teaching...

* * *

Lupin had been half expecting Dumbledore to seek him out ever since he'd spoken to Poppy. What he _hadn't_ expected was for that confrontation to take place whilst he was still recovering - the day after the full moon. Neither, to be honest, had he expected to merely be asked - in that way Albus had of asking that told you quite clearly it was an order, not a request - to teach two students the _Expecto Patronum_ Charm.

He wondered, for a good hour after Albus made his 'request', why those two students in particular would need that charm, and also whether either of them was yet strong enough to cast it. He had no doubts that Hermione Granger would understand the theory behind the spell, and even Ronald Weasley should be able to do that much, but cast it?

Well, he thought, letting exhaustion drag his eyes closed once more, they would see in two days time.

* * *

"...maybe you should get a medicine that _isn't_ Catnip based? Hmm? Even Professor McGonagall couldn't help herself in her animagus form." Hermione's sharp retort was the first thing Lupin heard from inside his classroom, and it automatically caused him to groan and pass a hand in front of his eyes. Bickering students were the _last_ thing he needed - or wanted for that matter.

"Well if you'd just keep that damn cat _out_ of the boys dorm then everything would be fine! Says a lot for how good you _really_ are if you can't even control your own familiar!" Lupin winced, more at the sudden chilly silence from Hermione than the low blow struck by Ron; the boy did, after all, have a valid point. Even if the 'familiars' most children at Hogwarts had were not 'true' familiars, they were not pets either, and they had them specifically to learn a little of what to expect - and what would be expected of them - should they ever attract a true familiar later in life. Personally Lupin thought there should have been an extra class - only once a week or so - to actually explain things, rather than just hoping the experience of having a pseudo-familiar would be enough.

The knock on the door jolted him out of his musings.

"Come in, come in!" He called. The door creaked open, Hermione stalking in with her back ramrod straight, Ron walking in behind her glaring daggers. Lupin rolled his eyes and plastered a congenial expression on his face. No doubt the next two hours were going to be hell, but he would survive it...somehow...

* * *

He'd been right, Lupin thought, wearily staggering into his room half an hour later than he had planned. Whilst Hermione had clearly been the first to understand and master the theory of the Charm - Ron coming a close second under her somewhat smug expression - neither she nor Ron had been able to produce more than a suggestion of silver mist, and even that had left them both drained and exhausted.

Still, he doubted even his warning not to over-exert their magic would deter Hermione. All he could do was warn Albus - not that he thought the Headmaster would be overly concerned - and hope that sense overcame pride before she burnt herself out attempting a spell that she simply was not yet physically able to perform.

* * *

Classes kept Professor Lupin far too busy to speak to the Headmaster about his concerns for Hermione Granger, and so it wasn't until almost a fortnight later that he had a chance to try and track the man down. It was only sheer luck - and a sudden warning shiver down his spine - that prevented him from stepping around the corner of the corridor before he heard the voices ahead.

* * *

Whatever the reason, Dumbledore had not failed to notice that Lupin hadn't informed him of the results of attempting to teach Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger the Patronus Charm. Instead - something that had caused him to wonder if Lupin was, in fact, suspicious of him - he had learned via a complaint from Irma Pince, the librarian, that Miss Granger had been looking through some borderline restricted books involving magic-boosting potions.

Now, whilst Albus was prepared to admit that Hermione Granger _was_ an exceptionally bright and capable young witch, he was also well aware that, aged 14, she was nowhere near powerful enough to brew the potions she had been examining. It would be necessary, therefore, to give her something of a 'helping hand', or rather, to get Severus to brew them on her behalf. It was for that reason that he had tracked down Severus Snape as he patrolled the corridors after curfew, since action needed to be taken immediately lest Miss Granger attempt the potions on her own regardless.

* * *

"Ah, Severus my boy." The Potions Master halted in his tracks and pivoted slowly to watch the Headmaster drawing closer. He noticed as Albus quickly and discretely cast a general locating charm, ensuring that there was no one in their vicinity. Clearly he ascertained that they were alone, for his expression changed from the benevolence everyone else saw, to a harder, sterner expression reserved only for his 'puppet'.

"Headmaster." His tone was bland; it couldn't be anything else unless the man in front of him willed it so.

"I require you to make a potion Severus." The Potions Master waited, his expression not changing in the slightest as the remark caused an embedded set of commands in the back of his mind to be activated. "It needs to permanently increase the magical reserves of the drinker, and it needs to be ready as quickly as possible." There was a long pause.

"A ritual would be faster, and the side effects less...noticeable to anyone looking for them." Albus looked surprised for a brief moment, as if he had forgotten the constraints under which he had told the Potions Master to behave, then his expression firmed again.

"A potion." He repeated icily. "I don't trust Miss Granger not to try and find out what ritual was used; identifying a potion by taste alone will be impossible for her." Severus inclined his head slightly in acquiescence. The gesture, despite being what Albus had expected, sent him into a rage, and he twisted viciously at the leash, startling a gasp of pain out of the younger wizard as he fell to his knees, clutching his head.

"Yes...Master..." The Potions Master gasped out, not out of any will of his own, but simply because Albus had instructed him to show obescience if, for whatever reason, his 'Master' inflicted pain on him.

"You have...three days." Albus stated, deciding to be generous. Giving the leash another twist - enough to be noticed, but not overly painful - the Headmaster walked away without a backwards glance.

* * *

Around the corner Lupin shuddered, but dared not go to Snape's aid. He had arrived just as the Headmaster, in the same voice as he had overheard him questioning Severus before, had demanded that the Potions Master make a potion. A potion, from the description of its effects, that could only be both Dark _and_ illegal.

He waited, listening as Severus picked himself up off the floor and dusted himself down with a quick spell. Clearly Albus' demand for the potion took precedence over his patrol duties, for Severus headed back in the opposite direction, towards the dungeons - something Lupin, who had no wish to be discovered in light of what he'd heard, was eminently grateful for.

It was _definitely_ time to start asking discrete questions.

* * *

_Mr L. Malfoy_

The letter was addressed innocuously enough, Lucius thought, wondering why on earth Remus Lupin would be sending missives to him by way of his son, Draco. Oh, he certainly hadn't forgotten that he owed the...man...a wizard's debt. No, he didn't think he _could_ forget that. What he was wondering was what, after all this time, had prompted the other wizard to finally call the favour in...

Well, he certainly wasn't going to find out by staring at the envelope.

Warily he slit it open with his 'special' letter opener - a family heirloom specially enchanted to nullify any dangerous magics. A folded piece of parchment fell out onto the desk when Lucius tipped the envelope upside down, then, as it was enchanted to do, unfolded itself outwards. Raising an eyebrow in curiosity - why had Lupin sent him a copy of Draco's timetable? - Lucius reached out and touched the corner of the parchment, meaning to pull it closer towards him, only to snatch his hand back as his touch triggered a spell.

Lucius was silent for a moment, then chuckled in amusement as he realised the safeguards the werewolf had used. Really, was he _that_ predictable? He looked at the envelope more closely this time, spotting the remnants of the spell that would have caused it and its contents to explode violently on coming in contact with a non-Malfoy magical signature. Dumbledore, and anyone else who might have intercepted the letter, would easily have seen and removed _that_ trap. But they would never have found anything more than a copy of Draco's timetable within; only contact with _his_ magical signature had caused the parchment to reveal its true nature.

_Lucius,_

I know you are wondering why I am contacting you after so long, and I know you probably expect me to call in the debt I am owed. I leave the matter of the debt to your discretion, should you choose to consider your reply payment - in part or full - I do not mind. The reason I am contacting you, however, is due to the...strange behaviour I have seen displayed by two mutual acquaintances of ours of late. I speak, of course, of Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore. I have my suspicions of circumstances surrounding the two, however I understand from other sources that you may have more detailed information that you might be willing to share.

I am not unaware that my position at Hogwarts is...exposed at best, however, with the aid of your son, I would not be unwilling to enter into an exchange of information. As you have no doubt discovered, my missives will be quite secure, and I will ensure that Draco is always able to deny all knowledge should the worst occur.

I shall consider my request and offer declined should I receive no response from you by the March full moon.

Sincerely,   
Remus J. Lupin

Eyebrows nearly to his hairline, Lucius tapped his fingers against the desk as he considered the implications of Remus' letter. '_Other sources_' was the only real ambiguity, and even then it mattered little. There were more than a few people from whom Lupin might have overheard the rumours about his and Severus' relationship. Indeed, the werewolf was offering a great deal for very little...and that would have been worrying had Lucius not known that the other wizard had a tendency to undervalue everything in the same manner.

A spy in Hogwarts would be...useful, although, as Lupin had pointed out, his position was highly precarious. Whilst Albus Dumbledore suspected nothing everything was fine, but should the Headmaster realise what was going on... Well, Lucius didn't fancy Lupin's chances for survival. Still, he was not one to look gift horses in the mouth, and potentially Lupin could tell him far more about Severus' condition than Poppy Pomfrey.

Lucius nodded to himself and summoned a clean piece of parchment to his hand. He would give a little of his information to Lupin and see what the other wizard did with it, see what information he returned in kind. Of course, he thought with a scowl, he could hardly consider a _trade_ of information as paying off the debt he owed...even in part. With a sigh, Lucius resigned himself to owing the werewolf a little longer.

* * *

Draco had been surprised when Professor Lupin had held him back after class without warning, but that surprise had tripled when the teacher had given him a letter addressed to his _father_, and instructed him to send it as quickly and secretly as he could. Despite his initial misgivings, and curiosity - why on earth was Professor Lupin writing to his father in secret? - he had done as bidden, not even stooping to the spells he had used to intercept the correspondence of other students in the past. He had realised, when he had considered doing so, that a) his father would be _most_ displeased if he discovered he had been going through his letters, and b) it was the _DADA_ teacher sending an admittedly _secret_ correspondence. If something exceedingly nasty wasn't set to activate should the wrong person attempt to read the contents of the missive, Draco was prepared to publicly admit that Hermione Granger was a better witch than he was a wizard, for all she was a Mudblood.

Draco was even more surprised, however, to receive a letter from his father not six days later, informing him - under the guise of reporting that his mother was complaining he didn't write frequently enough - to expect to act as a messenger between him and Professor Lupin. It was less the task assigned to him, however, and more the speed with which his father had sent a reply to Lupin, that shocked Draco. _Five_ days, five _days_... He wondered what it meant; he knew for a fact that his father responded to all correspondence exactly ten days after receiving it...unless it was extremely important, urgent or time-sensitive...

He made certain to discretely pass the letter to Professor Lupin at the first chance he got.

* * *

_Remus,_

I admit that I was surprised both to hear from you, and to receive such a generous offer. I will endeavour to tell you as much as I can, however, I am sure you will understand when I say that I cannot tell you everything. Likewise, I expect that there will be times when you cannot inform me of everything that might occur. This being the case, and the exchange of information being in both directions, I cannot count this towards my repayment of the debt I owe.

You are correct in that I am quite aware of circumstances surrounding the behaviour of Severus Snape, although I fear my knowledge of the reasoning behind our esteemed Headmaster's behaviour is nothing more than idle speculation. If your suspicions are that Professor Snape's actions are not his own, then you are quite correct. However, I must point out that Severus willingly placed himself in the situation that he is now in, against my own judgement. You would have to inform me of the conclusions you have drawn yourself before I could further comment upon them I am afraid. 

On my part, I would be most grateful if you could keep me informed on the apparent well being of Professor Snape. I have no doubt that your 'other sources' can quite adequately suggest why I might prize this information so highly.

Regards,  
Lucius Malfoy

Remus chuckled as he read the letter, well able to imagine the disgruntled expression on Lucius Malfoy's face as he decided that his 'honour' wouldn't let him take Lupin up on the easy way out of his debt.

The response had come far faster than he'd expected, far faster than he suspected Lucius normally responded to letters, which suggested that he was even more concerned about Severus' welfare than he had admitted to within the response itself. Even Draco - who was highly unlikely to have been told what, exactly, was going on - seemed to have decided that speed and extreme discretion were required in the delivery of the letter to its intended recipient, and had managed to slip the letter to him so quietly that he nearly hadn't noticed himself. The seriousness with which the Malfoys were taking the matter brought the realisation of what he was doing crashing down upon him.

It was almost disconcerting to realise that he was, to a degree, now spying for a known Death Eater... Still, Remus thought, frowning to himself as he destroyed all evidence of the letter, he had made his choice now. He could say with certainty that he had not gone 'dark' - no, he would _never_ support Voldemort's 'death to the Muggles and Muggleborn' ideals - but he was certainly no longer 'light', not when he now knew for certain that the icon of the wizarding world was employing methods akin to those of the Dark Lord.

Maybe his grey position - something he had obviously been leaning towards during his talk with Poppy - had been what prompted the Mediwitch to suggest he talk to Minerva...something he still hadn't done. Maybe, after the next full moon, he would find a quiet moment to invite her for that cup of tea...

* * *

It was, in many ways, the inevitable confrontation that Gryffindor Tower had been awaiting since the feud between Ronald Weasley's rat, Scabbers, and Hermione Granger's cat, Crookshanks, had begun. Ron stormed into the common room from the boys dorm, wordlessly threw a bloodstained sheet over the book that Hermione was reading, and then launched into a vicious tirade about how Scabbers had vanished, and the evidence pointed to Crookshanks having eaten him.

Hermione, unsurprisingly, rose to her familiar's defence with as much vehemence as Ron was accusing her of negligence, but in the end, with all the evidence damning her, she fled, weeping bitterly, to the relative safety of the girls dorm.

The silence that fell in the wake of her departure lasted long after Ron gathered up the sheet and headed back up the boys dorm, expression grim. Everyone seemed to sense that it was a turning point, that, somehow, a crossroads had been reached and a vital decision made. No one, however, could even begin to guess at the magnitude of that decision...

* * *

In his office Dumbledore stared contemplatively at the two bottles of strengthening solution that Severus had provided him with a week before. He had seen the confrontation in Gryffindor Tower, and he too had realised that a crossroads had been reached. He nodded grimly to himself as he vanished one of the two bottles. The Weasleys, he had concluded, were altogether too unstable to make accurate weapons; Hermione Granger, on the other hand, was easily blinded by her desire for knowledge and perfection. Blinded enough that he doubted very much she would question when Lupin gave her the strengthening solution. Of course, he would most likely have to...lean...a little on the werewolf to ensure that he behaved, but that was more than easy enough to do...

Albus smirked in anticipation. He couldn't wait to see what happened when Hermione Granger drank the strengthening solution better known as the Ab Insanus Ira.

* * *

Remus was prepared to swear, as he drank yet another Pepper-Up potion, that Albus Dumbledore had _deliberately_ scheduled Hermione's extra class to fall only two days after the full moon. Of course, he didn't need to swear, or even speculate really. He knew perfectly well the point Albus was making, 'I'm the one in control'. It was the same point the Headmaster was making by only having Hermione continue with the extra lessons after her spat with Ron - not that Lupin thought Ron would _mind_ the extra free time...

Predictably, exactly at 7pm, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in." Lupin called, slipping the latest empty Pepper-Up bottle into his desk drawer and trying to keep the exhaustion from his voice. Hermione slipped quietly into the room, eyes downcast, although Lupin could quite clearly smell that she was exceedingly pleased by the fact that she had been chosen to continue lessons where Ron hadn't.

"Good evening Professor Lupin." He heard, barely, as she glanced around the classroom. Either she was searching for a hint that they were progressing to dealing with actual dementors, or she was more paranoid than she liked to let on. "Sir," she hesitated.

"Yes Miss Granger?" He prompted.

"I was wondering...what _is_ the Dementor's Kiss?" Lupin hadn't quite been expecting that question - more one along the lines of 'how do I become powerful enough to cast the Patronus properly?' - but he was relieved to hear it. Now he had a starting point for the lesson, and he knew quite well that he could spend half an hour debating the nature of the Kiss with the intelligent Gryffindor.

Pleased that he would be able to avoid any _really_ tricky questions for that lesson at least, Remus began to explain the theory of the Dementor's Kiss.

* * *

Ronald Weasley's shriek of fear put banshees the world over to shame - as well as waking everyone within the Gryffindor Tower and Minerva McGonagall, whose quarters, whilst not directly next to the tower, _did_ have an alarm charm for events such as these. Still, fast as the Gryffindor Head of House was in throwing on a dressing gown and hurrying to ascertain the cause of the alarm, she was still not quite fast enough to catch a glimpse of a black tail vanishing around the corner of a corridor.

Hastened by fears that the worst might have happened, that Sirius Black might have broken in and actually harmed - or, Merlin forbid, _killed_ - one or more of her Gryffindors, Minerva was relieved to find, when she entered the tower, that whilst the students were milling around in fear and confusion, they were not suffering from the abject terror that a concerted attack would have produced.

It didn't take much - a magically amplified call for silence, the arrival of Headmaster Dumbledore - to slowly cause order, then sense, to appear out of the chaos.

The source of the exceptionally loud scream was finally deduced to be one Ronald Weasley, who was still sitting, trembling and pale, amidst the wreckage of his bed hangings. It was quite clear from the tattered remnants that they had been slashed with a blade or sharp weapon of some sort, a theory Ron was more than happy to stammer a confirmation to, as well as the identity of the wielder. Quickly it was determined that Sirius Black - assuming it hadn't been a hallucination plus some accidental magic on Ron's part - was no longer within the Tower, and the other Professors were awakened to form search parties. At the top of the priorities list, however, was discovering _how_ exactly how the escaped convict had gained entry to Gryffindor Tower in the first place...

* * *

Padfoot panted for breath as he waited for the secret passageway to close behind him. _That_ had been _far_ too close for comfort - and he hadn't found Harry at all!

Hearing the stone grate back into place, the great black dog pulled himself back onto all four feet and headed quickly towards the Forbidden Forest. He would lose his trail in there, he'd smelt _werewolf_ - but Remus thought him a traitor now - in the castle, and only then head for his true hiding place.

* * *

This close to the full moon he could smell it still, the almost overpowering stench of traitorous _dog_, untruthful _mate_, that made the wolf inside him rage. Lupin let that side of himself howl, only half-heeded, concentrating on making his excuses. Not that he _needed_ to explain he was still exhausted - the staff members knew exactly what his 'illness' was.

He had claimed that he was returning to his rooms, but instead hid around the corner in a secret niche that went nowhere, but served as a handy hiding hole if one was needed in a pinch. Once the other professors - and, most importantly, the Headmaster - were gone, split into pairs to search Hogwarts from top to bottom, or headed to take up station with their students in the case of the Heads of House, Lupin's demeanour changed. He _was_ still exhausted, but he was also, as so rarely happened, in complete accord with his wolf side. The agreement seemed to overcome the majority of the exhaustion he still felt, and so he set out in pursuit, quickly recognising the secret passage they were heading towards.

Sirius had paused for breath outside the castle, Lupin noted absently, waiting for the entrance to seal itself shut behind him. No doubt the traitor would anticipate his pursuit - if he had been able to smell _dog_ so clearly, it was a fair bet that he himself had been smelt - and attempt to lose him, most likely in the Forbidden Forest. A snarl of anticipation appeared on Remus' normally placid face as he fingered his wand, and then, with a last glance at the castle - Albus was _not_ going to like this - he loped off in the direction Sirius had indeed taken; towards the Forbidden Forest.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore, noticing Remus Lupin's absence from the Head Table the next morning, was not greatly concerned. He had been mildly surprised to see just how tired the werewolf really was - even woken during the night - a full three days after the full moon. It had sparked an internal debate in his mind, whether to order Severus to cut back slightly on the strength-sapping additives that he was currently including in the Wolfsbane potion, along with the other 'extras' he was providing. In the end, however, he had decided that the more exhausted - within reason of course - the better.

It hadn't been until after he'd finished debating the idea that he'd really started paying attention to the goings on around him, even though he'd actually been giving orders whilst he thought. Then, too late, he'd noticed that Lupin had sloped off - back to bed, his memory had informed him - before he could enquire as to whether he could track Black's trail through the castle.

Black... The man was starting to make himself a nuisance, whether he had assistance from the Phantoms or not. This was the second time the escaped convict had managed to successfully infiltrate not only Hogwarts grounds, but Hogwarts castle itself - and do so without triggering any of the wards that would have immediately announced a forced entry of any kind.

He _couldn't_ be insane if he was able to somehow circumvent Hogwarts security, help or otherwise...and if he wasn't insane... Was it possible that Sirius had - against all probability - managed to escape Azkaban on his own? If it was, then the chances were that he _didn't_ know the Phantoms had Harry - which would explain why he had come to Hogwarts. It might also be the reason the Phantoms seemed to have gone quiet...perhaps Sirius' escape had thrown _their_ plans into disarray. Dumbledore chortled quietly to himself at the possibility.

Still, he thought, frowning at the empty seat where Lupin normally sat, if those two were given time to talk... No...he dismissed the idea with a firm shake of his head, ignoring the odd looks from the students with practiced ease. The seeds of doubt and mistrust were too deeply sown for a simple 'talk' to occur, much less a talk that resulted in either man realising the truth - that he had no idea where Harry was. The only thing that could reconcile the two would be if Peter Pettigrew miraculously appeared, and if Albus knew Peter, he would have fled to the furthest point possible on learning of Sirius' escape.

* * *

Professor Lupin didn't return to Hogwarts until the Monday morning, appearing briefly in the Great Hall - to the surprise and consternation of a handful of students up early - bedraggled and bloodstained, but with a grimly satisfied expression on his face. He barely noticed them, didn't acknowledge them in any way as he made his way to the Head Table, whispered something to the Headmaster, and then quietly exited through the door at the back, quickly followed by Dumbledore.

* * *

Remus was well aware that he had learnt too much for Albus' comfort during his little jaunt. Fortunately he also had just the information to divert the Headmaster's attention. It was that information that was the cause of his expression; a mixture of grim disappointment that he hadn't managed to catch Sirius and exact his revenge/punishment, and satisfaction that Sirius would not forget the chase for a good few months at best.

"Remus my boy," Albus started, neutrally congenial. "I'm glad to see you are well - I was starting to wonder if the curse had claimed yet another of my Defence teachers." Ah, there it was, the concealed threat that Remus had been expecting. "You said you had important news?"

"I apologise for my deception Albus," it almost hurt to inject the right amount of abashed sincerity into his words, "but I had my suspicions as to where Black was going, and I didn't want to divert the search on just a hunch." He could see the Headmaster was listening carefully, weighing his words for truth and value. "As it turned out, by the time I realised my suspicions were correct, it was too late to turn back for aid; I believed it more important to run the threat to ground and neutralise it than to risk losing his trail once more." The quickest of smirks across Dumbledore's face - did the old man think he wasn't watching? "Alas, I failed to do more than sight Black before we were both set upon by the acromantula that infest that area of the forest - I believe it was Sirius' plan to lead me into them, but he didn't anticipate getting caught in his own trap." The old man's eyes were gleaming, and even over the scent of sherbet lemons Lupin could smell eagerness. Lupin hung his head slightly in mock shame. "I lost track of him in the confusion as I fought my way clear of their territory, and I think that Sirius also managed to flee to safety, but I smelt enough blood to suggest that he was badly injured...perhaps mortally so."

The last parts of his tale were almost completely fabricated; he and Sirius had been forced to work together to escape the acromantula, so he knew quite well that a) Sirius had escaped, and b) his wound, whilst grievous, was not life-threatening. Albus, however, was beaming as though Christmas had come early.

"That is good news indeed - we won't have to worry about being murdered in our beds for several months, if ever again! No doubt, in such a state, the dementors patrolling that area - or perhaps even the centaurs - will quickly find him and ensure that he is not a threat." Albus' expression suddenly turned thoughtful. "My boy, I'm glad to have you back in one piece, but I find it rather curious that the acromantula failed to pursue such a tempting meal as a pair of wizards..." Lupin gave a mental sigh. He hadn't wanted to mention quite how they'd managed that, however...

"I was aided by a rather...unusual...denizen of the forest - a blue Ford Anglia I believe. It seems to be known - and somewhat feared - by the acromantula, and it was in the confusion of its appearance that I - and most likely Sirius - made my escape." Albus was nodding thoughtfully.

"I shall have to ask Hagrid what he knows of such creatures." For a moment Lupin _knew_ his surprise showed - was Albus truly unaware that a 'Ford Anglia' was a muggle vehicle? Or was he simply fishing to discover whether he had spoken to Hagrid already?

"Hagrid, Albus? I didn't think he would know much about muggle transportation, even enchanted varieties, so I didn't think to speak to him." Lupin shrugged. "I was going to, with your permission of course, firecall Arthur Weasley at the ministry - this sort of thing is much more his remit." Albus was beaming again, apparently satisfied with his explanation. Lupin wondered whether the Headmaster _realised_ that his tricks were old and wearing thin at the joins, making them transparent to anyone with enough sense to _look_.

"Muggle objects enchanted and living in the Forbidden Forest? Yes...yes I think your idea is a good one my boy. I don't think we need to bother Arthur though, he is a very busy man after all, and it doesn't seem to be doing any harm in there - quite the opposite in fact." The twinkle had also returned to the Headmaster's eyes. "Now, I suggest you go and change before your first lesson - a house elf can bring you breakfast in your rooms." Lupin nodded and smiled his thanks, quickly hurrying away before the 'reward' was revoked. As soon as he was well clear of the Great Hall, however, his smile turned bitter. Did Albus think he was so easily distracted by petty comforts as being allowed to clean up, or to eat a hurried breakfast as he did so? Well, at least the slightly distorted tale had been accepted with barely a question, and the vetoing of his 'intended' call to Arthur had been convenient for both of them.

He also, Lupin realised as he stripped and washed, suddenly felt a lot better about his snap decision to obliviate Hagrid of their talk. That had been one of the near-outright lies he had seemingly managed to slip past the Headmaster - proof, if any were needed, that the old man's faculties were slipping. Remus had quite deliberately spoken to Hagrid. For some reason, seeing the Ford Anglia had made him think of Sirius' enchanted Motorbike, and that had in turn reminded him that it had been _Hagrid_ who had been sent by Dumbledore to investigate the chaos at Godric's Hollow. Chaos that Dumbledore _had_ to have been expecting, otherwise why send only a half-giant whose wand had been snapped?

Not that Hagrid remembered being sent to collect an infant Harry Potter from the ruins of the child's house. In fact, Hagrid - who was well known to be unable to keep a secret if led in the right direction by conversation - seemed to know nothing more or less than the average witch or wizard knew about Harry Potter. If Lupin was reading the signs aright, there was a massive conspiracy underway, one which was being masterminded by Albus Dumbledore, and centring about the location of one Harry Potter...

* * *

After the 'excitement' of the beginning of the month, February quickly settled down into its more normal routine; lessons and assignments for the students, lessons and marking for the teachers. Lupin, aware that Dumbledore would be watching him more closely than ever - and perhaps even asking the students to inform him of anything suspicious - debated long and hard before finally deciding to commit pen to paper and write Lucius again. He waited until the last minute, skipping breakfast on the Saturday morning he was due to oversee the students in Hogsmeade, to actually write the letter. His plan was simple; slip the letter to Draco - who would know what to do with it - and then, if any of the students _had_ been tasked to keep an eye on him, he would let them watch whilst Draco actually dealt with the letter.

* * *

Draco Malfoy wasn't entirely sure how he'd wound up near the infamous 'Shrieking Shack'. He'd slipped away from Crabbe and Goyle - loyal as they were, it was impossible to do anything covertly if they were with him - in order to owl Lupin's letter, and then he'd just wandered, needing space to think.

His father's warning, during the visit at the beginning of the school year, had been taken to heart, and suggested that _something_ might happen to turn the authorities at the school - Dumbledore and the other Professors - violently against him. In all honesty, Draco had no idea what on earth might drive the teachers so far as to actually threaten physical harm to a student, well, except for the Headmaster himself. There was something about Dumbledore, something that he found himself at a loss to describe as anything except a 'sour note' in the old man's too-benevolent aura. It was not, he had thought, when he'd spotted it for the first time, unlike the sounds the auras of some of his father's Death Eater compatriots gave off.

A cold prickle of foreboding ran down his spine, and Draco was suddenly hyper-aware of eyes boring into his back. He whipped around, drawing his wand in a single smooth movement that had been drilled into him for hours at home. Even so, he was forced to dodge quickly to one side as a handful of mud went sailing past his head. where had it come from? If he could _see_ where the next one came from he would, briefly, have a target. Slowly he turned on the spot, wand at the ready, listening for the slightest sound...there! He whirled again, watching in confusion as a mixture of mud and green slime went flying through the air - apparently randomly. Malfoy relaxed slightly. A poltergeist or something of the like then; the first either hadn't been aimed at him deliberately, or the second had been to throw him off guard.

A stick went flying, again 'aimed' nowhere near where he was standing. Draco watched it with narrowed eyes, and so, when there was a sudden vague shimmer in the air, he had cast _Petrificus Totalis_ before he quite realised it. The spell passed straight through the shimmer - which vanished without a trace - and impacted harmlessly on a tree beyond. _Definitely_ some sort of poltergeist or ghostly activity, Draco decided. Maybe the rumours about the shrieking shack were true.

Having lost his introspective mood, Draco headed back down to Hogsmeade village. No doubt Crabbe and Goyle would be in Honeydukes - he could meet them there.

* * *

Lucius' reply arrived ten days after the Hogsmeade weekend, slipped to him when Draco handed in his homework assignment. It seemed to burn a hole in his pocket as he carried it around the rest of that day, particularly at the two meals whenever Dumbledore glanced in his direction. Still, Lupin had long years of practice hiding secrets that he didn't particularly wish known, and given one of those saw him turn into a wolf on every full moon...

It was still, however, a relief when he finally escaped to his rooms and lightly warded them. It might have seemed strange to someone else, that he didn't swathe his rooms in the heaviest wards possible to open the letter in complete security, but Lupin had good reason not to do that. For a start, he was well aware that even his heaviest wards would crumple like paper if Albus Dumbledore chose to destroy them, and secondly, all heavy wards would really do would be alert the Headmaster that he was up to something. Light privacy wards, however, were standard procedure for private rooms, and they would give him enough of a warning to incinerate any damning evidence before an intruder reached it.

Wards in place, Lupin finally opened the letter and began to read...

* * *

His first thought, first reaction, was utter disbelief. Swiftly following on the heels of that reaction came the predictable suspicion - it was well known that Lucius Malfoy had claimed to be under the Imperius curse after the fall of Voldemort. Then, as he let the information sink in, let himself search his own knowledge of events for corroborating or contradictory evidence, Remus found himself realising that Malfoy might well be telling him the truth.

Would Albus Dumbledore go so far as to obliviate anyone else who knew something that he didn't want them to? Once upon a time Remus' answer would have been a swift and certain 'no', but now... Everything had changed now, and with the knowledge that the Headmaster was, truly, controlling Severus Snape - and quite whether it was against his will or not was still unclear thanks to Lucius' hedging on the matter - Remus found himself leaning more and more towards 'maybe'. It all depended on just how big the secret was, and how many people had known.

If it, as he suspected now, involved Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived... Hagrid had _certainly_ been obliviated of all but the public knowledge of Harry, which suggested that perhaps others had been obliviated of the same memories - but who? Minerva had been obliviated of details of the Chamber of Secrets; Lucius had revealed that she'd had Poppy remove the block, but that there had been older blocks that were too risky to attempt removing. Had _Minerva_ been obliviated of knowledge of Harry, just like Hagrid? Despite Poppy's suggestion that he talk to Minerva, Remus was well aware that, as Deputy Headmistress, he was getting too close to Dumbledore for comfort. Until he had some sort of evidence that she wouldn't turn him in or do something foolhardy - such as confronting Dumbledore herself - he couldn't risk it.

So...he was back to the waiting game. Well, Remus thought, somewhat wryly, no one had ever accused him of lacking patience...

* * *

The full moon had been and gone once again, and Minerva, also once again, was watching Remus Lupin with no small degree of concern. She had not forgotten how terrible he had looked, as a young boy, staggering out of the Shrieking Shack in the early hours of the morning, propped up by Sirius, James or both. But that was before even the basic Wolfsbane potion had been developed, and without the ability to control the wolf - to a degree at least - such exhaustion had been to be expected. Now however...

Lupin, Minerva was quite certain, should _not_ have been nearly falling asleep in his breakfast two days after the full moon. Not with the advances in the Wolfsbane potion that Severus had made. The only slightly plausible explanation was that Severus had asked Lupin to act as a guinea pig...but neither professor would do that during term, not when the potential victims of any accident were _children_ for Merlin's sake!

Maybe, she decided, trying to convince herself more than anything, Lupin was simply struggling to sleep knowing that Sirius Black was somewhere out there - somewhere nearby... But in her heart, Minerva knew that wasn't truly the reason.

* * *

_Continued in next chapter..._


	7. The Prisoner of Azkaban Part Two

_...continued from previous chapter._

* * *

"Ah, Remus my boy - a word if you'd be so kind." Remus had stiffened automatically as he heard the voice and its request, and he forced himself to relax before he turned and gave the Headmaster what _seemed_ to be a friendly smile.

"Albus, how can I help you?" He was grateful the Headmaster had chosen to do this after his last class of the day - there were a couple of hours before the evening meal, and Remus suspected that he'd have no appetite whatsoever for at _least_ that long after the old man explained what he wanted.

"I was wondering how Miss Granger's lessons were coming along." Ah... Lupin realised, with sudden certainty, that he was _not_ going to like where this conversation inevitably led.

"She's an excellent student; she has a firm grasp of the theory now, she understands the theories of what dementors are, their effects, and the Kiss. She also has the incantation and wand movements memorised. Unfortunately, since she _is_ only 14, her magical core isn't yet mature enough to produce more than a suggestion of silver mist. I would expect a fully corporeal patronus to be within her capabilities in a year or two though. And of course, we haven't been able to practice with a real dementor." Compulsion spell, Remus realised, finally managing to bring his mouth back under some semblance of control. Albus _knew_ I'd hedge for as long as possible and wanted the information _now_, so he used a compulsion spell on me...

"Wonderful!" The exclamation sounded genuine, and Remus shot a covert glance at the Headmaster's expression. Smugness and thoughtfulness - the Headmaster's plans were going well, and he was contemplating his next move, Remus guessed. It was clear that, whatever the old man was up to, Hermione was already deeply involved...although whether _she_ knew was anyone's guess...

"Albus..."

"Miss Granger has been doing some research in the library." The Headmaster continued, overriding the concerns Remus had been about to voice. "She has looked at many different potions, and I have decided that her first choice is a good one." Remus might have wept had he not realised to do so would be tantamount to suicide. Hermione probably had no idea of the consequences of drinking some of those potions, and he had no way to prevent her from, one way or another, getting her hands on one - especially with Dumbledore aiding her.

"You wish..." his voice wavered, and he coughed to force it back to normality. "You wish me to give her the potion." He stated, praying he looked and sounded at least neutral. Albus was nodding in response to his words.

"Yes, since you are tutoring her in this situation, I feel it would be appropriate." The Headmaster fumbled in his pocket and withdrew a small vial. "Here." Lupin took the vial, forcing himself _not_ to drop it even as his skin crawled at the greasy sensation of Dark magic. "I am aware that Miss Granger doesn't have another lesson for nearly a fortnight, however, I believe it will be safe with you." An arched eyebrow suggested that it _better_ be safe - and administered - before the Headmaster turned and swept from the room.

As soon as he was gone, Remus opened an unused drawer in his desk, placed the vial inside, then closed, locked and warded the drawer. Only then did he allow himself to drop into a chair and shake. _Gods_...the Dark magic he could feel through the vial... He strongly doubted that Hermione was so far gone as to ask the Headmaster for a potion using dark magic, never mind _Dark_ magic, but if her DADA professor gave it to her and _he_ had been given it by the Headmaster... He knew it was useless trying to determine which potion it was by looking in the library; Dumbledore had no doubt removed the relevant texts as soon as Hermione had looked through them, and the Potions Master was...well, he wasn't himself.

He had been manoeuvred neatly into a corner, Remus realised with a sigh. Whilst the potion was in his desk he was at risk of losing his job and being sent to Azkaban, and even once it was gone, he was still at risk of someone realising what Hermione had taken - and who had given it to her. Catch-22, he thought with a grim smile. He would do it, because that way he might get to remain at Hogwarts long enough to get to the bottom of some of its mysteries, and maybe even discover something damning that Lucius could use against the Headmaster...

* * *

If there was one thing Hermione Granger knew no one could accuse her of, it was ignorance. Her drive to learn, to _know_, had driven her apart from her peers since day one, a fact she had come to accept early on in life. Even when she had been sent to boarding school she had found very few others who shared quite her enthusiasm for knowledge. But far from driving her to abandon her books, the attitudes she had encountered simply drove her further and further into them, to the point at which she had come to believe that, unless it could be explained by a book, rationalised and dissected by the written word, it was of little worth. Her parents approved of her attitude, believing, as they did, that if a thing could be achieved easily, it was not worth achieving in the first place.

A half-smile crossed her face as she remembered how proud of her they had been when the Hogwarts owl had arrived...well, once they had decided it _wasn't_ a practical joke. And for the first time she had made friends...of a sort...

Why oh why hadn't she argued with the Sorting Hat? It had been wrong all along - Ravenclaw was where she belonged, not Gryffindor. But she had been seduced by the Gryffindor aura of camaraderie, had found a longing in her heart to try and touch the feeling of friendship, the alluring circle of light and warmth that she had always been left on the outside of. But her illusions, her hopes that this world would be different, better, had been cruelly shattered after a Charms lesson. It had taken right up to Halloween to gather the courage, but finally she had tried to open up, to help someone else, to _make friends_...but she had no first hand understanding of social interactions, and this...this was something no book could help her with. Her attempt had backfired spectacularly, and she hadn't been able to understand _why_.

Then, in a twist that she truly hadn't been expecting, the same boy she had tried to befriend, who had hurled the insult that had nearly broken her completely, had saved her from a troll. He and his brothers to be precise. And then, for once acting on her instinct, rather than listening to the logic that insisted she should always tell authority figures, such as her teachers, the truth, she had lied to keep her rescuers out of trouble. They had saved her life, she had reasoned, surely that meant she owed them a debt of gratitude, if nothing else? Suddenly she'd had _friends_, people she could talk with, laugh with, play games with... She had been overcome by the heady feeling of companionship, willing to do almost anything, even break the rules a few times as they attempted - unsuccessfully as it turned out - to discover exactly _why_ a corridor had been marked off as 'forbidden'.

Her friendship with Ron had continued into her second year - she recalled being petrified with a shudder - and they had become even closer, although Fred and George had both become more distant. This year, her third year at Hogwarts, they had met up to buy their school supplies, and she had been so certain that their friendship would continue... But it seemed that Ron had tired of her, tired of her company. Hermione could see no other logical reason that he would jump to conclusions and make such hurtful accusations. She knew, deep in her heart, that Crookshanks hadn't _touched_ Scabbers, no matter how he had been tormenting the poor rat this year.

So now she was once again friendless and alone... But she wasn't lost, she wasn't without purpose - Headmaster Dumbledore had allowed her to continue her extra lessons with Professor Lupin, had listened sympathetically when she had bemoaned her lack of magical strength, and, if she hadn't been imagining things, had winked in a manner that suggested maybe, just maybe, he would see if he couldn't do something about that. To be able to cast a corporeal patronus aged 14 - _that_ would be an achievement. She had looked in the library for her own solution to her lack of strength, but all the potions she had found had been either restrictive, or required magical knowledge and ingredients that she didn't have or just couldn't afford. Besides, if the Headmaster found a solution then it had to be perfectly legal, right?

With a start Hermione realised that, whilst she had been musing on her life so far, her feet had automatically carried her through the castle to the DADA classroom door. With more confidence than she truly felt, she raised a hand and knocked on the door.

"Come in." Hermione swallowed, straightened her back and did as she was bidden. Professor Lupin was seated behind his desk marking papers, but he looked up and smiled, putting the quill down, as she quietly closed the door behind her. "Good evening Miss Granger."

"Good evening Professor Lupin." She replied, eyes scanning across the desk. Her heart sank - there wasn't a potion in sight. Maybe the Headmaster hadn't been able to find something that was legal...

"The Headmaster tells me you aren't happy with the level of your abilities...?" Her head shot up as she met the Professor's eyes with her own. Was he suggesting..._could_ he be suggesting?

"I want to be able to produce a corporeal patronus, Sir." She offered. "I _know_ I can do it..." She just needed the extra strength, needed it _now_... Professor Lupin's expression didn't change as he studied her with his disconcertingly amber eyes. She knew, then, what she could do if she had to...but _could_ she do it? Could she _really_ blackmail a teacher - an _authority figure_? In the pursuit of knowledge, of ability...she thought she might just have picked up enough bad habits from Fred and George Weasley to go through with it.

"...been researching potions to force an increase in power?" Professor Lupin was saying. Hermione blinked and dragged her attention back to the current situation. Yes, she'd been researching, but how had the Headmaster known? Oh well, not that it mattered... She frowned as she realised that the Headmaster had also somehow known about her dissatisfaction with her current abilities - although if Madame Pince had told him which books she'd been looking at, well, the Headmaster was no doubt intelligent enough to put two and two together.

"Yes Sir, but they were all either illegal or required ingredients I can't afford." The Professor folded his arms, sitting back in his chair and regarding her for a long moment.

"And if you _could_ have afforded those ingredients? No doubt you would already have inveigled lab space from Professor Snape in order to brew one of them, hm?" Hermione nodded vigorously, not trusting her voice. This _had_ to be leading where she thought it was, it _had_ to be! There was a long pause and then Professor Lupin closed his eyes and sighed, he looked older all of a sudden - defeated. Hermione frowned, was wanting to produce a corporeal patronus, even just once to prove to herself that she _could_ do it when she had the magical reserves available, even cheating and using the Cor Fretus potion, so wrong?

"Sir..." She trailed off as Professor Lupin held up a hand.

"It doesn't matter, really, " he muttered - she didn't think she was supposed to hear the quiet words. She watched, barely daring to breathe, as he dispelled a number of wards on the lower drawer of his desk before opening it and withdrawing a small vial of dark liquid. "The Headmaster has instructed me to give you this, and since you seem to be aware of the risks involved..." He sighed again and shot her a sharp look. "I can only hope, Miss Granger, that you do not regret your decision to take this." She was captivated by the vial, eyes wide as she stared at it, and his words barely registered. There was something about the liquid...something almost, hypnotic... "Here." Hermione, hands trembling slightly, reached out and took the offered vial, staring at it for a long moment before almost reverently removing the stopper.

This was it, this was her chance; drink this, and for a short while, she would be able to see her potential in the sleek silver form of a corporeal patronus...Hermione knocked the contents of the vial back in one swift swallow...

It was cold, so very, very cold - so cold it burned like acid as the liquid slid down her throat. She gasped for air, only to begin choking as she also breathed the potion. Her legs trembled, and she fell gracelessly to her knees, a spasm of pain knocking her onto her side on the cold stone floor. Hermione's eyes filled with tears from the pain, and she was barely able to see Professor Lupin, face sorrowful, barely able to wonder why he wasn't helping her before all she could feel, all she could _think_ was the pain...

* * *

Remus thought the worst part might have been the expression of shock and bewilderment, confusion as to why he was doing nothing. That and the silence - he'd more than expected screaming, hence the discrete silencing charm he'd cast on the room after he'd handed over the potion vial. Oh, he'd realised before he'd given it to her that it wasn't the potion that she was expecting, after all, Miss Hermione Granger had enough of a reputation as a 'rule _keeper_' that he sincerely doubted she'd dabble with anything dark, never mind Dark. No, he'd realised she was expecting something less sinister, more benign, had realised with plenty of time to keep this from happening...and he had chosen, quite cold-bloodedly, to go through with the Headmaster's plan.

He could justify it, Remus thought bitterly, by reasoning that if _he_ didn't do it, then Albus would simply have him 'disposed of' by the 'curse', and find another way of indirectly giving the potion to the poor girl. Delaying the inevitable served no purpose here - he wasn't _that_ eager to meet an unfortunate end, his life was hazardous enough as it was. Justifying it, however, didn't make him feel any better about it; another stain on his conscience, his soul... All he could do was make sure that he wasn't the only one to know about what had happened, to make sure that if - when - Albus decided he had outlived his usefulness, this secret didn't go to his grave with him.

Still, it remained to be seen quite how severe and what form the effects of the potion took. He had no idea which potion had been in the vial, but from the feel of the Dark magic on it the side effects were most likely going to be mental instability. Quite what form that instability would take...well, he would have to wait and see there as well.

Remus sighed, contemplating cover stories for delivering the girl to the Hospital Wing, before he realised that telling Poppy the truth of what had happened was far safer than risking Dumbledore's wrath for taking Hermione to the Hospital Wing in the first place. Hermione chose that moment to shudder and finally uncurl from the foetal position she'd assumed after she'd collapsed to the floor. Now was the moment of truth...now he would discover just how unforgivable his sin was...

* * *

"Miss Granger?" He kept his voice gentle, made no movement from where he still sat behind the desk. His wand was in his right hand, and his left was braced under the desk's top, ready, if he deemed it necessary, to topple it as a barrier.

* * *

She hadn't realised anyone else was there until he had spoken, voice grating against the pounding headache she had. Slowly she turned her head towards the source of the voice, bits and pieces of memory returning in a flood as they were jarred into recollection by what she saw. She stared, unblinking, at the Professor, letting the fragments of knowledge float back into place until she knew who, _what_, she was looking at.

"Professor Lupin." She acknowledged, carefully pushing herself up onto her knees. The texture of the rough stones, cold beneath her hands, distracted her attention briefly and she looked down, fascinated by the chaotic patterns of wear-and-tear left by centuries of use.

"How do you feel, Miss Granger?" She blinked and looked back at him... Professor Lupin, she remembered again, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and a werewolf...

"I..." she frowned, feel...how did she feel...? "Fuzzy. Headache. The floor is cold." The last was said with a slight pout; the floor was being cold just to spite her, she was sure of it.

Remus suppressed a sigh as he watched the young girl, distracted once again, this time by the workings of her own hand. It seemed that the side effects had all been mental, although it was possible that, after a while to settle down, Miss Granger would be more back to her old self and less a second coming of Luna Lovegood. Still, dealing with the aftermath promised to make for a long night...

* * *

Hermione Granger did indeed seem to return to her normal self, and if she was a little bit less caring of the rules, a little less studious, well, she was already far enough ahead that the teachers didn't mind - or notice much for that matter - and her fellow students merely breathed a sigh of relief that she was _finally_ unbending a little. Remus Lupin, however, was almost certain that those minor changes weren't quite _all_ that had changed. It was, therefore, only the DADA teacher who was unsurprised to learn that, not only had Hermione skipped a Charms lesson, but she had also slapped Malfoy for a comment he had made within her hearing.

Remus Lupin, having done some covert research through some equally covertly acquired books, had finally narrowed down the likely potions that Hermione might have been given to three. The first, and the one he suspected the most after her recently reported outburst, was the Ab Insanus Ira potion, with the Commotio Fretus and the Deus Spiritus potions close behind. He'd ruled out the Insania Fretus since she had both been coherent immediately after regaining consciousness, and since Draco Malfoy's head was still attached to his neck.

Scratching out the last of his message, he quickly cast the charms and curses that would ensure only the intended recipient could read the damning words. That done, and the 'unflattering test grades' folded and sealed in an envelope, ready for the next opportunity he got to slip it to Draco, Lupin realised he'd finally run out of excuses. It was long past time that he should have spoken with Minerva...which didn't make it any easier - especially not considering what he'd done to one of her beloved students, and a Gryffindor at that!

* * *

Remus Lupin's firecall, three days previously, had come as a surprise for Minerva McGonagall. Certainly she hadn't seen or heard anything that might indicate the younger professor was having problems, and whilst he wasn't unsociable, he did have a rather retiring personality. She was fairly certain that she was the first of his colleagues that he'd invited to his rooms for a cup of tea. Frowning slightly, she was just about to leave her rooms when she remembered the odd piece of parchment she'd recovered from the Weasley twins the previous year. It had struck her, at the time, as strange for Fred - or maybe it had been George? - to be carrying the blank sheet almost as if it was a map. Various revealing charms had failed to reveal anything, and yet she could sense there was complex light magic woven into it. Perhaps, she mused, Remus Lupin, as a former Marauder, might know a trick about getting it to activate...

Slipping the enigmatic parchment from her desk, Minerva tucked it securely into a pocket of her robes, and left her rooms.

* * *

"Minerva." Remus had hoped to keep his greeting neutral, but the suspicious glance the deputy headmistress sent at him told him he hadn't been successful. Truthfully, he wasn't surprised that something had given away his nerves. How could he _not_ be nervous when one potential outcome of this meeting was his death? Fortunately she remained silent whilst he closed the door and activated several rather complex, if seemingly innocuous, privacy wards.

"Why do I get the impression," Minerva mused, gracefully taking a seat as he indicated that she should, "that the staff here are getting more and more paranoid?" Remus laughed slightly, pouring the tea before he too took a seat.

"Perhaps because we are." He replied, only half in jest. "Poppy suggested I talk to you." He added, tone serious, watching her eyes narrow. Minerva reached for her tea, taking a sip and grimacing slightly before reaching to add two sugars to it.

"I see..." She finally responded when it became clear that he wasn't going to say anything further without prompting. "Should I take that to mean that you have...doubts...about Albus?" Remus admired her courage in making such a dangerous statement, but then again, she _was_ the Head of Gryffindor house.

"I have absolutely no doubts about our...esteemed...Headmaster." He responded carefully. "I _am_, however, interested in learning just how far his..._influence_...spreads." Remus watched Minerva's expression closely as he spoke, relaxing marginally as she also relaxed somewhat at his words.

"Then I think we Gryffindors can cease our attempts to be Slytherins." She gave him a tight-lipped smile that held little humour. Remus nodded a firm agreement - it had been difficult enough writing that first suggestive letter to Lucius Malfoy. "I know for certain that Albus has used at least one Obliviate on myself, and I suspect that he has used something very like - if not actually - the Imperius curse on Severus. He has also been grooming Ronald, Fred and George Weasley, and Hermione Granger to form an independent strike force against You-Know-Who when he rises again." Remus nodded, a little surprised that Minerva actually knew less than he did. Then again, he reasoned, the Headmaster was probably more cautious around his deputy, since she, unlike a DADA professor, could not be either so easily replaced or so easily disposed of.

"I can confirm your suspicions about Severus, and I believe Hagrid has also been obliviated...tell me, what do you know about Harry Potter?" His question seemed to blindside her for a moment, and she took another sip of her tea before answering slowly.

"His parents, Lily Potter nee Evans, and James Potter, were killed by You-Know-Who 12 years ago. Harry somehow survived the killing curse that You-Know-Who cast, and it rebounded upon the caster, discorporating him and resulting in the current state of peace..." A confused expression flickered across her face, and she frowned in concentration.

"And...?" Remus gently prompted.

"And..." Her frown deepened, and she suddenly shook her head. "And...he was sent to live with his Aunt and Uncle, although I doubted their suitability..." Minerva looked deeply disturbed. "I don't remember anything else about him, but...surely he should have come to Hogwarts when he turned eleven?" Lupin nodded, that had been his thought exactly. Albus wouldn't have let Harry go to school anywhere else - and it wasn't as if there was anyone who was going to prevent the Headmaster having his way over the matter - and since Harry _blatantly_ wasn't there, it stood to reason that something was _seriously_ amiss.

"Either Albus is schooling - or having him schooled - somewhere privately, or potentially the events of 12 years ago had an unforeseen effect on Harry, made him a squib or something." Remus mused aloud. "I _know_ Hagrid was the one to fetch Harry from Godric's Hollow, yet he remembers nothing of it, just as you remember nothing more than Harry being placed with the Dursleys. Snape, of course, might know everything, but isn't in a position where he can be asked safely..." Minerva was nodding.

"It makes sense... These past three years Hogwarts has been acting as if she's missing a Gryffindor student - if it was Harry's destiny to come to Hogwarts, then You-Know-Who's actions could well have interfered with his fate." It made sense, Remus thought, but it also somehow seemed too innocent an answer. If Harry truly _had_ been made a squib, well, he could understand keeping the fact a secret from the wizarding world in general, but to go to the trouble of obliviating everyone else who might have asked questions? He didn't voice his doubts, however, recognising that Minerva was still having difficulties coming to terms with the fact that Albus might not be the beacon of light she had always thought.

"You mentioned a 'strike force'?" Remus queried after a long moment of introspective silence.

"Yes," Minerva confirmed, sounding glad of the change of topic. "Although Albus seems to have taken less interest in them this year - besides Ronald and Hermione's extra lessons with you - so he may have changed his mind about that idea. It reminds me, however," she put her tea down and pulled a _very_ familiar piece of parchment from her pocket. "I confiscated this from the twins last year, but I can't seem to work out how it works. I thought, as a former Marauder, you might know a few tricks I don't." Remus laughed softly and took the offered parchment.

"You could say that." He grinned, then tapped the parchment with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." The map obediently revealed itself, startling a gasp from Minerva. "It helps when you were one of the creators."

"You...the four of you made _that_?" Minerva asked, incredulous. "Dare I ask what year you were in at the time?" Remus grinned toothily, showing the elongated canines that hinted at his being a werewolf.

"It was our fourth year, if I remember correctly, although Peter managed to get caught by Filch in our seventh year. The twins must have managed to liberate it from his office; quite how they stumbled across the activation phrase is anyone's guess though." It was a good memory, the creation of the map, for they had created it in order to ensure they were not caught whilst attempting to become animagi. That it had also come in handy for pranking had been a bonus.

"Fourth year..." Minerva muttered, shaking her head in amused disbelief. She stilled on seeing his expression suddenly harden. "Remus?" He sighed - time to bite the proverbial bullet...

"Hermione Granger has taken one of the darker strength increasing potions." A glance at Minerva's face showed the shock and slowly dawning suspicion that he'd expected. "And before you ask, yes, I know this because I was the one to give it to her - on the Headmaster's instructions." There, it was said. Remus picked up his cup of tea and sat back in his chair, awaiting the inevitable explosion.

"I...this isn't a joke, is it?" He could tell by her expression that the question was rhetorical, but still he shook his head. "_Why_? How could you do something like that Remus?" Her expression was troubled, begging him to have a good reason, and yet he knew she would see his reason as anything but. Minerva was dedicated to her students, too much of a Gryffindor - no matter how well she played chess - to accept that sometimes there _was_ no 'good' reason, only a 'not as bad' one. He sighed, cradling the cup of tea to his chest.

"Albus would have ensured she took the potion, one way or another. If I _hadn't_ given it to her, against his direct instructions, then I don't doubt the 'curse' on the DADA position would have already struck again." He could tell by her expression that no, she didn't think his reason was a good one. "Look at the bigger picture Minerva." He urged, earning himself a glare. "Yes, I will forever have this on my conscience, but whilst Albus thinks I'm too scared to go against him he'll be complacent. Maybe not as complacent as he is around Severus, but then Severus can't make a run for it like I _could_, and aside from Poppy and Binns - neither of whom are likely to learn anything that can be used against the Headmaster - I'm the only professor in this school safe from his mental manipulations." She didn't like it, he could tell by her expression, but it made sense.

"It seems I shall have to keep watch on you also, Professor Lupin, to ensure that you don't decide to flagrantly exploit this...excuse." Minerva spoke bitterly, her expression one of disappointment. Remus winced. "If that was quite all, I appear to have a lot to think about."

"Actually," he said softly, hesitantly, "I do have one request..." Minerva arched her eyebrow, but remained silent. "I have been more exhausted around the full moon than I should have been. At first I was loathe to cast aspersions, but if Severus isn't entirely himself..."

"You suspect a sedative?" He nodded - either a sedative or a poison, or maybe even both, but he didn't _need_ to mention his poison theory if she would rather think more benignly. "Very well, I shall endeavour to acquire Wolfsbane from another source for the coming full moon. Was there anything else?" Her expression suggested that his answer to that had better be 'no'. Obediently he shook his head, watching without comment as she stood - tea long since abandoned - and silently left.

It wasn't until he went to place his own cup of now-cold tea down, almost an hour later, that he realised she had forgotten - or left - the Marauder's Map. Not wanting that particular reminder of all he'd lost on display, he tucked it securely under several defence books on his desk. Out of sight, out of mind...or at least that was what he hoped.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall found herself relying on years of dealing with adolescent crises to maintain her composure as she walked back to her rooms, praying with each step that she wouldn't run into anyone, least of all Albus. Her prayers, however, were seemingly heard, and she made it back to her rooms without seeing even Mrs Norris. Once inside, her carefully maintained facade shattered.

She had been prepared, when Remus had asked her to tea, for maybe a single revelation that had caused him to suddenly question the true state of affairs at Hogwarts. She had _not_ expected to be blindsided by what felt like a dozen major revelations at once. Shakily she seated herself in an armchair and closed her eyes, concentrating on her breathing. It would not do for her to have a panic attack that would no doubt bring Albus running, not with her mind in the state that it was.

One thing at a time, she decided. That was always the best way to tackle a problem that seemed too large at first glance, break it down into smaller and smaller tasks.

Hermione Granger, then; if she _had_ taken one of the permanent strength-increasing potions it would explain her recent attitude change. Whilst most of the staff were not unused to such sudden outbursts, especially from the girls as they started to become women, there were usually warning signs. Minerva sighed. What was done was done, and although she would never again fully trust Remus Lupin because of it, she didn't doubt that he had been telling the truth when he'd said it would remain on his conscience. Neither did she doubt that he had been telling the truth about Albus having instructed him to do it. Remus Lupin, unless she had truly misjudged him - and wasn't Sirius Black a good example of just how badly wrong her judgement could be? - simply wasn't the type to do something like this merely because he could, and since this benefited him not at all... There was also the fact that, even if he could brew one of those potions himself, he would quickly have caught the attention of either Severus or Albus, which, since Severus would no doubt have instantly informed the Headmaster, meant that Albus _had_ to have known what was going on. Still, if she hadn't known about his 'strike force' plans, she wouldn't have been able to see how, exactly, a magically stronger but mentally weaker Miss Granger would have been of any use.

Conclusion? Albus, already on half a strike for his behaviour the previous year, was now on a strike and a half. Remus, caught in an undeniably tenuous position, was on half a strike. Nodding her head once, sharply, Minerva set the issue of Hermione Granger to one side.

Severus Snape, she thought, shying away from the metaphorical 'pink elephant' in her thoughts. She _hadn't_ mistaken in her understanding of what he had implied that day in the Hospital Wing. But she had to wonder how Remus had known - he and Severus had a history, so it was highly unlikely they had been corresponding, and if Severus was being controlled, then he would have no way to let anyone else know. Just like he had somehow known that _she_ had been obliviated, or at least, that was what she had inferred from his complete lack of surprise at her statement. Poppy couldn't have told him because of her oath, Severus couldn't have told him, and Albus wouldn't have volunteered the information. Minerva frowned. Who, exactly, _was_ Remus' source? She doubted he would tell her if she asked.

Poppy _couldn't_ have told _anyone_, just as Albus _wouldn't_ have told anyone. _She_ certainly hadn't been bandying the information about, and Remus hadn't spoken to her enough, before tonight, to have spotted the inconsistencies that he'd highlighted in the conversation earlier. Severus...well, he _had_ gone to Malfoy Manor, but the idea of Remus Lupin corresponding with a Malfoy was - or should have been - more laughable than the idea of him corresponding directly with Severus. In the absence of any other explanation, however, she was forced to concede that it might be the truth of the matter.

Which left Albus on two full strikes - Severus, after all, didn't seem to be suffering too badly; every student bar the Slytherins was still in terror of him, and he was the bane of her Gryffindors. Remus...she would give him the benefit of the doubt regarding his source of information. There was, after all, a chance that Severus had spoken to someone _other_ than Malfoy Senior.

It was at that point that she, somewhat belatedly, realised that she had left the parchment, the _map_ with Remus. Was it worth going back to retrieve it? No, she decided with a sigh. If Remus _had_ been one of the creators - and probably the one who had done all the research for the charms needed - then he could quite easily create another one should he wish, if he hadn't done so already.

She had also virtually promised to purchase Wolfsbane for him as well, although his suspicions hadn't come entirely as a surprise to her. After all, she had already noticed that he seemed to be tiring more around the full moon than she remembered; but she had attributed it to the stress of teaching, the fact that, whilst young, he wasn't as young as he had been, and the stress of knowing that the only other living Marauder - the traitor - had escaped from Azkaban. Minerva hadn't even considered the Wolfsbane as a culprit, although now the theory had been put to her, she realised that she should have wondered - Severus Snape might have been above outright killing Remus with the potion the other man _had_ to take, but he certainly wouldn't be above making his life...uncomfortable...Imperius curse or no.

Well, Remus certainly couldn't be blamed for something being done _to_ him, which meant Severus - or should that be Albus as the root of the problem? - earned half a strike against his name. Minerva frowned again. If Severus had truly been a spy for the light, as Albus had testified, then why was he being held under the Imperius? And if Severus had actually always been a loyal Death Eater...no...she didn't want to follow that line of thought any further. She could only take so many shocks in one night, could only face so many ugly truths as the things she learned forced her to strip away the pretty lies spun to disguise them.

But that left only one revelation to face, the revelation she had been trying to avoid as she sorted her thoughts...

_Where_ was Harry Potter?

* * *

A week after his talk with Minerva, Lupin was once more slipped a letter by Draco. The contents were much as he'd expected; no comment on Hermione - despite the fact that it had been Draco who was slapped - and little more than a vague promise to look into information relating to Harry Potter. That Lucius had hedged on the latter point meant one of two things, either he knew exactly the answer to the original question - what happened to Harry Potter after Halloween 1981? - and felt uncertain as to whether Lupin could match the value of the information, or he truly - as was implied - needed time to make enquiries that he could be certain would not be traced back to him.

Whichever it was, only time would tell, but if it _was_ the former reason, well, Lucius, Remus thought, might just find himself surprised by the information he could offer in trade.

* * *

The knock on his door was not entirely unexpected, since Remus had been waiting for Severus to bring the Wolfsbane potion up to his room as he had taken to doing. The knock, however, was not the sullen banging that he had come to associate with Severus, but rather a brisk rapping that said whoever was knocking wanted to be let in _now_, before anyone saw them there.

"Come in." He called, confused, until Minerva McGonagall stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind her. She had a steaming goblet in one hand that he recognised all too well.

"I told Severus I needed to speak to you and I'd make sure you took it." She explained, setting the goblet down on the desk before she removed several vials from her pocket. "Wolfsbane - don't ask how I got it," she cautioned, needlessly. Remus smiled gratefully at her. No doubt she'd procured it through contacts at least as...questionable...as the ones he usually obtained it through.

"Thank you Minerva, how much do I owe you?" She shook her head, dismissing the idea of repayment.

"Just let me know if it _is_ Severus' Wolfsbane causing your exhaustion - I somehow doubt you'll be parading the fact in public." He nodded. "If Albus should ask, then I requested you cease Miss Granger's extra lessons so that she might concentrate more on her exam preparations." Again he nodded, and after a brief pause, Minerva left without another word.

Remus lost no time, after that, in disposing of the contents of the goblet and drinking the contents of one of the vials. He knew, instantly, that there was a difference. The potion he had just drunk lacked the distinctive bitter aftertaste he had come to associate with Severus' Wolfsbane. In two days time he would have an idea whether that bitter aftertaste was benign or not. In three days, on the blue moon, he would have an idea whether that bitter aftertaste might just be extra painkillers. A week after the blue moon, however, he would have to give Minerva an answer...

* * *

Minerva found the scrap of parchment on her desk three days after the blue moon. It was a corner piece, ragged on two edges where it had been torn away, and there were two words and a doodle on it. The two words, '_it is_', might have come from a student's essay, but the doodle, a full moon with a cloud and a couple of stars, told her that it was a message. Remus Lupin's suspicions had been confirmed; the Wolfsbane that Severus Snape was brewing for him was also causing his abnormal lethargy.

* * *

The Dementors, frustrated by their inability to find, much less apprehend or kiss Sirius Black, were getting restless. They could feel the emotions they longed to drain and were becoming bolder, encroaching on some part of the Hogwarts grounds almost daily.

Lucius, who normally might have taken Draco's information with a pinch of salt, found himself believing it in this case. It helped that Remus Lupin, who wouldn't have discussed his letter with anyone, much less Draco, had included much the same information in his own missive. He had also expressed his suspicions that Dumbledore was attempting to - or possibly already had - poisoned him by making Severus alter the Wolfsbane potion, but Lucius knew he would be able to discover whether that suspicion was valid in a week or so anyway. If he was to take advantage of Dumbledore's distraction with the Dementors, however, then he had to act immediately...

* * *

Severus Snape never received post; not even the Daily Prophet. This was a good thing, overall, since it meant that Albus was neither receiving double the quantity of his usual post, nor suspected of intercepting Severus' post. Today, however, appeared to be the exception, for that morning, along with the usual student and staff post, a regal-looking eagle owl - obviously a ministry owl; in fact, the resemblance to Minister Fudge was uncanny if one ignored the obvious intelligence of the owl - deposited a slim letter, addressed to Severus, contemptuously on the Headmaster's plate. Rescuing the letter from his breakfast, Dumbledore tucked it into his robes and dismissed the owl before rising, collecting Severus with a glance - and a mental tug - and making his way to his office.

There was a long silence whilst Albus read the letter, followed by a resigned sigh. The ministry, as usual operating by its own rules, had apparently decided that Severus needed to demonstrate he was still qualified as a Potions Master; they wanted him to demonstrate the brewing and administration of both Veritaserum and Wolfsbane, tomorrow.

Their timing, Albus mused, couldn't have been worse.

With the Dementors beginning to encroach on Hogwarts grounds, he had to remain there, ready to drive them back whenever necessary. That meant he wouldn't be able to accompany his puppet to the ministry. It wasn't that he was worried that they might mistreat Severus - he sincerely doubted they'd do anything quite so brutal as he'd resorted to on occasion - but rather that he was worried Severus might manage to slip his leash again. Unlike the Imperius curse, which was cast and then lasted as long as the will of the caster held out against the will of the person it was cast on, gradually breaking down over time regardless of proximity to the caster, the modified Imperius/Legilimency leash _was_ influenced by proximity to the controller. It wouldn't break without a _finite incantatem_ being cast on Severus, but there was always the risk that some over-enthusiastic Auror - or...other...parties - might try it on impulse. If he wasn't there to instantly reassert control, in the vital moments of confusion, then there was a chance that Severus might escape.

Still, he didn't have much choice in the matter really. All he could do was send Severus off tomorrow, and pray that things - for once - went as planned...

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was a great and powerful wizard, Severus Snape reflected, staggering slightly as the portkey deposited him not - as the letter had claimed - in the ministry atrium, but somewhere he didn't recognise at all. Albus Dumbledore was, for all he despised the man, extremely cunning and a formidable enemy. He was also one of the three masters of Occlumency and Legilimency currently in the United Kingdom. Unfortunately for him - and fortunately for Snape - he had become so blinded by his madness and superiority complex that he seemed to have quite forgotten who one of those other three was.

Severus could tell, from the thickness of the leash, that he was a long distance from the Headmaster, almost certainly the South of the country, if not further. It was that change that had allowed one of his contingency plans - the changes he'd had Lucius make to Operation Puppet - to activate. He was suddenly quite thankful that, whatever the reason at the time, it had occurred to him that, were he to be abducted, Dumbledore might potentially decide he was expendable, leaving him helpless - thanks to the leash - and at the 'mercy' of his captors. Captors who, he noticed after glancing around him, seemed to be very much _not_ in evidence.

Hmm... One eyebrow rose slowly as he surveyed his immediate surroundings in more detail. No, he'd been right in his first quick assessment, there was no one else here. How bizarre...no, he realised again, a slow smirk spreading across his lips, how very, _very_ Lucius.

As if thinking his name had been a summons, there was a sudden 'crack' of apparition. Instinctively Severus dropped and rolled, rising to his feet with a knife in each hand. He might have been forbidden to take his wand by Dumbledore, but he'd never been so arrogant as to rely merely on his wand. Besides, his two knives weren't exactly normal. The left one, Fekete Szin, was made of a tarnished metal that seemed to absorb the light. The blade's shape was long, slim and curved, with a razor-sharp front edge and a viciously jagged back edge - it was also poisoned and cursed. The right one, Vilagos, in contrast to its dark counterpart, seemed to amplify the light that hit it, appearing to glow with a fierce inner light. The blade's shape was shorter and much wider than the other, with both edges finely barbed - but Vilagos' true strength lay in its ability to deflect and absorb magic.

"Severus...?" He could tell Lucius was - somewhat justifiably - nervous. They had implemented the changes to puppet based on theory and speculation, which meant they hadn't actually known whether it would work until it happened. Lucius was no doubt wondering if he was truly himself, if he was still under control of the leash, or perhaps even if he was polyjuiced.

"Lucius." He acknowledged, somewhat curtly, not putting his knives away. It wasn't impossible that this wasn't Lucius. "I presume I have you to thank for the 'ministry' portkey?" Lucius smirked and lowered his wand.

"Yes. Narcissa wants her entire family around her when she gives birth. The Dementors provided a fortuitous opportunity to get you out of Hogwarts and put enough distance between you and Dumbledore at the same time." Severus gaped slightly at the news that Narcissa was not only pregnant, but probably due to give birth in the next week at the most, and relaxed slightly, but just as Lucius still held his wand, he refrained from re-sheathing his knives. Lucius chuckled. "Don't worry Severus, we're inside the blood wards." Severus watched as the blond finally sheathed his wand, then turned his back and began to walk away. Pulling himself together, he sheathed his knives and followed.

Blood wards, infamous enough on their own, their very name automatically associating them with the forbidden blood magic, the Malfoy blood wards were the most infamous of them all - within the wizarding community anyway. It was said that they had been created using the blood of 100 muggles, 50 loyal house elves bound to the Malfoy family, and one black unicorn - a gift from the Dark Lord of the time. Supposedly they were renewed every half-century with the blood of those who dishonoured the family name, for, despite the disparate nature of the Malfoy 'family', it was still possible to be disowned.

Severus himself didn't know the full extent of what the wards could do - he doubted _anyone_ knew the full extent of wards so dark and old - but he _did_ know that even the Dark Lord couldn't cross them without an invitation from Lucius, Narcissa or, when he wasn't under Dumbledore's thumb, himself.

* * *

"Lucius..." He turned as Severus called him, startled to discover the other man quite so close. They were at the very inner edge of the blood wards now, close enough that when a long-fingered hand brushed past his shoulder, it almost immediately sank into the wards themselves. Wards that promptly solidified and went dark, a wall that he found himself backed into by Severus.

He opened his mouth - to protest or ask questions he wasn't quite sure - but before he had a chance to speak Severus' lips were on his, and Severus' tongue was demanding entry - and who was he to deny it? - and _gods_ but he'd missed this...

When the other hand - the first being trapped in the solidified wards - slipped inside his robes and wrapped around his hardening prick, Lucius gave up any and all coherent thought, swept away by the feelings provoked by his other lover. He was barely aware of the sight he made, pinned between the darkness of the Potions Master and the wards, head thrown back and mouth open in an 'O' of breathless ecstasy, hips bucking uncontrollably into the hand firmly stroking him. Lost in the sensation, in the moment, Lucius wasn't even aware that Severus' mouth had moved from his own, kissing and nipping down his jaw line and throat, until the other man breathed a single command into his ear.

"Come for me." Lucius obeyed with a hoarse scream, hips jerking raggedly as Severus' expert grip milked him for every last drop of pleasure, not quite missing as Severus, skin flushed, groaned and came himself. He slumped forwards, leaning into Severus as his legs threatened to give way. Each deep, panting breath drew the unique 'potions' scent of his lover into his nose, refreshing his memory of both it and other occasions when they had stood exactly like this.

The hand withdrew from his robes and Lucius shuddered, not needing to see to know that Severus was licking his come from it. A few moments later and the same hand, no doubt fastidiously clean, began carding through his hair. Briefly Lucius allowed himself to relax, content to simply lean against Severus and be petted, but much as he would have loved to remain where he was, he was all too aware that Narcissa was alone. It was an irrational fear, he knew that, but contrary to the impression they gave the world, he truly loved both her and Severus. Severus, however, was neither pregnant nor defenceless - as attested to by the knives he wielded.

"Thank you." Lucius whispered, brushing his lips across Severus' in a chaste kiss before turning away to face the wards.

The wards surrounding Malfoy Manor - two sets of blood wards and a set of more standard wards on the doors and windows, as well as blood wards on the floo entrances - never ceased to impress Lucius. How true the rumours of their creation were, he wasn't certain, but they were old and powerful enough to have a degree of sentience that was almost scary.

Malfoy Manor had _never_ been breached by an uninvited guest, although there had been one or two guests who had wreaked havoc once inside. It was for this reason that, contrary to popular public belief, there were no 'dungeons' or 'torture chambers' or 'holding cells' etc. within the Manor grounds. If an enemy could not break into a place by themselves, you certainly didn't _let_ them in.

Calmly Lucius requested the wards to release Severus, who pulled his hand back as he was released. Then, using his wand to make a slight cut on his finger, he pressed the blood into the wards and bade them allow him and his guest entry into the manor. The blood vanished, absorbed into the wards as they obediently split open, permitting the two of them to pass through before they closed tightly once more.

Severus was home, Lucius thought with relief. Now all that remained was to retrieve Draco from Hogwarts without arousing the suspicions of the Headmaster...

* * *

That Severus hadn't returned from the ministry the previous day wasn't a great concern for Albus Dumbledore. Severus Snape being who he was, it wasn't unreasonable to suspect that the assessment panel were not making things easy for him. Of course, they would eventually have to concede that yes, the man _did_ qualify for his 'Master' status, but they didn't have to do so _quickly_. Still, it would be inconvenient to have him absent for more than the two days...

"Ministry of Magic," he called, throwing a pinch of floo powder into the fireplace, "Assessor's Offices." Moments later the flames turned green and he awkwardly went to his knees, sticking his head in the fire.

"Ah, Headmaster Dumbledore." The head of the department greeted him. "To what do I owe this unexpected call?" He sounded genuinely surprised, Albus realised with dawning suspicion, cursing the inability to use Legilimency through a firecall.

"I was just wondering whether any of the staff were needing to reaffirm their qualifications...?" The head of the department nodded, probably assuming that he was concerned about summons occurring during the imminent exam period, Albus mused.

"No..." Came the response after a long pause and some shuffling of paperwork "The only one of your staff due for an accreditation check is Minerva McGonagall, and that's not for another three months." The department head's tone became mildly chiding as he continued. "You should know by now that we endeavour to disturb the school routine as little as possible Headmaster."

"Of course, I apologise." Albus forced the words out, covering his irritation at the man's tone of voice. "I had some plans in mind for the summer, but if my deputy is going to be required, I shall have to put them on hold."

"Well if that was all, Headmaster, I do have things to be doing." Dumbledore nodded, inwardly seething at the dismissal, and withdrew from the fire. Stiffly he stood and went back to the seat at his desk. Fawkes trilled a brief song from his perch in the corner, and a soothing warmth spread through his protesting joints.

"Thank you my friend." He murmured to his familiar, not realising that along with the joint pain, the song had also soothed away his anger.

"So...where did Severus _really_ go...?" The Headmaster mused aloud, already opening the drawer holding the Janus' Mirror. But the scrying, as he had expected, proved fruitless. There were three parties who he suspected had motives for 'kidnapping' the Potions Master. The Phantoms, the Death Eaters, and Lucius Malfoy... Of course, Lucius - remembering his 'hints' at the end of the previous year - could be acting on the orders of either of the first two groups, or simply as an independent... No, he stifled a burst of laughter, Lucius _Malfoy_ would hardly be acting as an independent. What use could Malfoy _possibly_ have for Snape that wasn't related to the Phantoms or the Death Eaters? Certainly he wouldn't have chosen him for attitude or, Gods forbid, his looks! Besides, the blond had to know that Severus was compromised - there would be no reforming of the 'Unholy Trinity'.

No, Severus Snape had most likely been taken by the Phantoms or the Death Eaters, probably in the misapprehension that the fool actually knew anything of his plans. He took a moment to regret that he hadn't thought to implant some false plans into the puppet's mind, and then, resigned to the fact that his Potions Master would be returned when whoever had him determined that he was of no use to them, Albus Dumbledore went back to his duties as Headmaster of Hogwarts - which now included hiring a substitute Potions Professor...

* * *

Draco was worried - he couldn't help but be. His father had warned him that there might come a time when Hogwarts was no longer safe, but he hadn't even hinted at whether that time of danger was near or further in the future. It was with no little trepidation, therefore, that he found himself obeying the summons to the Headmaster's Office - especially after Professor Snape's sudden 'leave of absence'. He knew damn well there was no reason at all that would have called the Professor away, for an unspecified time, that his father wouldn't have somehow forewarned him about.

"Blood Pops." The gargoyle was moving even before he finished telling it the password, a fact that failed to register over his growing worry. As he started up the moving staircase he had even begun to chew on his lower lip, a concerned habit that he'd thought he'd abandoned before he came to Hogwarts.

"...family affair, as I have already told you Dumbledore." Draco paused at the top of the stairs, allowing himself one brief moment of sheer relief as he heard his father's voice from the office ahead. Pulling himself back together, he strode confidently along the short corridor and rapped briskly on the door.

"Ah, come in Mr Malfoy." Swallowing the last of his fears, Draco did as he was bidden and stepped into the Headmaster's Office.

* * *

He could tell, although Draco was hiding it _very_ well, that his son had - probably based on his warning at the beginning of the school year - feared the worst. Yet he had still come to Dumbledore's office as he was bidden... Lucius wondered if there wasn't more backbone buried in the boy than he'd thought.

"Father." Draco greeted him with a rather stiff and formal bow, then sat in the empty seat to his left before acknowledging the Headmaster. "You wanted to see me Headmaster?" It was a clear, and very polite, snub, but Lucius knew he would have to warn Draco against playing such games in the future. Whilst Dumbledore could do nothing in the presence of witnesses, the gods knew there were enough places in Hogwarts without such protection. For the moment, however tempting Draco might find it, his subtle provoking of Dumbledore was akin to walking up to a dementor without a wand and kissing it on the cheek.

"It appears your father feels it necessary to remove you from the school, despite the fact that you have exams coming up."

"Now, now, Albus, I've already assured you that Draco will be returning to the school in time to take his exams." Lucius interrupted, sounding supremely bored.

"Still, it is highly irregular..."

"Headmaster." Lucius' icy tone warned him to cease his delaying tactics. "I have already heard your opinion and stated my own. I am under _no_ obligation to inform you of anything beyond the fact that I, as Draco Malfoy's father, have chosen to withdraw my son from Hogwarts for a period of time." Lucius smirked victoriously as Dumbledore glowered at him. "Now, if you have no pertinent comments, we shall be leaving." He stood, noticing Draco follow his lead and also stand, and with an almost-mocking inclination of his head, led his son out of the office.

* * *

Dumbledore, as unusual as the feeling was, was worried. Severus had been kidnapped from under his nose - almost certainly by Lucius - and then, not two days later, _Lucius Malfoy_ had withdrawn his son from Hogwarts with no warning. Was something going to happen? It couldn't be the Death Eaters, they were scattered and hiding with the Dark Lord still yet to achieve his resurrection. The Phantoms then? But what would they be doing?

The thought that occurred to him - that they might intend to release a dangerous creature, such as a werewolf or vampire, into the castle - reminded him that Severus was not there to provide Lupin with his doctored Wolfsbane. Fortunate that he'd had the Potions Master brew the batches earlier than required - Wolfsbane had a surprisingly long life and could be stored for a few months before it degraded to the point of uselessness. This would also - for certain this time - be the ninth dose, the crucial dose, of the 'special' Wolfsbane. After this, Lupin would no longer be a threat to anyone, least of all him.

Smirking evilly, Albus Dumbledore stood and retrieved a bottle of the stored Wolfsbane, his contemplation of the Phantoms forgotten in the light of a plan about to conclude successfully.

* * *

Although he dearly wanted to ask his father a multitude of questions - mainly why he'd just been taken out of Hogwarts - Draco knew better than to ignore the 'don't ask' glare he'd been graced with as they left the Headmaster's Office. Even once they were out of the school doors, the expression on Lucius' face was intense enough that Draco knew an interruption wouldn't be welcome. So, frustrating as he found it, Draco held his tongue - and his curiosity - in check. Once they apparated into the entrance hall of the manor, however, Lucius' expression became a little less guarded, and Draco figured it was safe to finally ask.

"Father..."

"My study." Lucius promptly overrode him. Draco sighed discretely as he turned away - he recognised that tone of voice too well to bother arguing.

He wondered, as he walked - Malfoys didn't 'trudge' after all - through the manor's twisting corridors, what he had done wrong this time. The only thing he could think of was his snubbing of the Headmaster... Sighing again, this time in resignation, Draco entered his father's study without knocking. There was a startled pause as Draco and Severus regarded each other, Narcissa currently too busy crying into the Potions Master's robes to have noticed Draco entering the room.

"Hello, Professor..." Draco finally said, rather weakly. He was _extremely_ confused now.

"Draco." Severus replied, inclining his head - as much as Narcissa's presence would allow anyway.

"M...mother?" Draco forced himself to choke out, still wondering why the hell she was sitting in his Godfather's lap and weeping as though something - or someone - she loved had been taken away forever.

"D...Draco?" She replied between sobs. Slowly, almost awkwardly, she slid off Severus' lap - with some assistance from him - and turned towards the door. "Draco!" He stared, jaw dropped open in shock. Since when was his mother _pregnant_! And why in Hades name had she been sitting in _Snape's_ lap, crying into his chest! He let out an undignified squeak of surprise as a hand fell on his shoulder and propelled him into the office from the doorway.

"Lucius." Narcissa's voice was icy, and Draco felt his father's flinch through the hand resting on his shoulder. It was not, Draco realised with some alarm, his father's _wand_ hand. "Take your hand off _my_ son - or do you intend to sacrifice him too?" Draco swallowed as his mother's eyes flashed in anger. His father's hand vanished from his shoulder, but Draco didn't dare move, at least, not until Severus caught his eye and indicated they should make a discrete exit before the sparks _really_ started to fly.

Although she was his mother, Draco had heard enough tales of pregnant witches that he gratefully sidled out of the line of fire, and unashamedly fled through the 'secret' exit Severus had opened.

* * *

"Professor..." Draco began, somewhat hesitantly. He hadn't forgotten his father's injunction that the Potions Master couldn't be trusted at the moment.

"It's alright Draco, no doubt Lucius warned you about trusting me at school." It wasn't a question, but Draco nodded anyway. "And at Hogwarts you _shouldn't_ trust me." Severus confirmed. "This far from Dumbledore, however, I can override his control." Draco wasn't quite sure whether to gape in horror or shock as he sank into the chair behind him.

"I...he..._control_?" Draco finally managed to stammer, quite effectively distracted from _all_ of his earlier questions.

"You will have to ask Lucius' permission before I tell you any more than that. You will also have to learn Occlumency - at least enough to block a casual scan..." The Potions Master's voice trailed off, his expression enough like his father's when he was in deep thought, that Draco knew a disruption would be unwelcome. With a deep sigh, the Malfoy heir settled back into his chair, resigned to his confusion - for now.

* * *

Lucius was relieved when Severus quietly removed himself and Draco from the scene of the impending confrontation. He'd hoped - in vain as it had turned out - that his other lover might have been able to calm his wife whilst he made himself scarce. Unfortunately Severus had only managed to get Narcissa to the stage where she was all tears, and even Draco's presence hadn't helped as much as he'd expected. He sighed, wishing again that she hadn't brought up the issue of her brother, Sirius Black, earlier that day. Still, she had touched a nerve with her comment about Draco and, pregnant witch or not, he was going to let her know it.

"I would sacrifice _everything_ for Draco's safety, and well you know it, Narcissa Black-Malfoy." He hissed, tone glacial. "He is as much _my_ son as yours and Severus' son, and he is _family_."

"Then why won't you save my _brother_?" Narcissa demanded petulantly. "You could easily find Sirius - find him and clear his name..."

"I told you _exactly_ why I _cannot_ do that earlier - and I will _not_ repeat myself." Lucius snapped back, not missing the way Narcissa's eyes flashed again in anger, or the way her hand slipped towards her wand. His own hand slipped towards a small dagger - he was not so far gone that he intended to duel his wife at this stage of her pregnancy, nor did he intend to make a fool of himself scrambling from curses and such - that was neither dignified nor the 'Malfoy way', at least, not on their own ground.

Instead, as she drew her wand and threw one of the more legal 'dark' curses at him, Lucius dropped to one knee - the curse sailing harmlessly over his head - and ran the dagger across a finger, allowing the blood to hit the floor as he invoked the protection of the manor's blood wards.

"_Sanguis Amiculum_!" The wards sprang up around him just in time to intercept Narcissa's second curse with a shimmering red veil. Lucius stood as his wife screeched her displeasure at him. "_Retins_." He instructed, causing the wards to gently capture and hold his wife before she could storm away through the same 'secret' passage Severus and Draco had used. "_Sedere_." The - now silently - fuming Narcissa was guided gently but firmly to a seat and made to sit. Lucius - who could still remember the hell he and Severus had endured during her pregnancy with Draco, although mostly her temper had been directed at Severus as the 'cause' of her discomfort then - ignored the death glares he was receiving and knelt in front of her.

"If I could locate Sirius Black and trust him not to do something foolish, then perhaps I would be able to save him." He explained, despite having said he would not repeat himself. "As it stands I don't know where he is, nor Pettigrew for that matter, without whom I could not clear your brother's name except by handing myself over to the Ministry." The expression Narcissa shot at him was a clear veto of _that_ idea. "And even if I _were_ to find him and tell him the truth about his beloved godson - if I could even convince him I wasn't lying - he would not quietly flee to safety in another country. Your youngest brother is a Gryffindor, remember, and that means his first action would be to confront Dumbledore."

As silent tears began to fall from Narcissa's eyes, Lucius sighed.

"_Libera_." The wards released their hold, and instantly his arms were full of a contritely-sobbing Narcissa. Stroking her back and whispering comforting nonsense, Lucius could only pray that she gave birth _soon_.

* * *

Remus decided he _had_ to stop being surprised by people knocking on his door. Or rather, he had to get over his surprise that the people knocking weren't the people that he was expecting to be knocking. This time, instead of Severus - whom Albus had announced would be away for 'a while' - or Minerva, it was the Headmaster himself knocking on the door. Unlike his other guests, however, the Headmaster - as Lupin had expected he would in such an event - simply ripped through his wards as if they were cobwebs, and entered his rooms, an entirely unrepentant grin on his face. In one of his hands he held a vial of what, Lupin just _knew_ was Severus' Wolfsbane...

"Headmaster, what can I do for you?" He greeted politely, deciding against bringing up the subject of his wards and his privacy.

"Severus left a batch of the Wolfsbane before he went, so I've brought it down from my office for you." The vial was thrust in his direction, and Lupin had no other option but to take it, hoping against hope that Dumbledore would be satisfied with him taking the vial and not insist on him drinking it in front of him. His luck, however, didn't seem to be in, for Dumbledore watched him, the gleam in his eyes slowly dimming in suspicion. Praying that the man would leave him be as soon as he _had_ taken it, Remus reluctantly removed the vial's stopper and downed the foul-tasting concoction.

"Was...was there anything else, Headmaster?" Remus choked out, handing back the empty vial.

"No, no, that was all. I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow, my boy." It was an order, not a pleasantry, but Dumbledore left immediately after it was given, and that was what mattered to Remus right now. Grabbing his wand, the werewolf hurried into the bathroom and knelt next to the toilet. Taking a deep breath, he placed the tip of his wand firmly against his stomach.

"_Vomi_." The effect was nearly instantaneous, and Remus began retching violently, voiding the contents of his stomach - including the dinner he'd just eaten. As the heaves finally started to trail off, he could only hope that whatever had been added to the Wolfsbane had been prevented from entering his system...

* * *

As yet it was unspoken, but the sentiment within the staffroom was clear, Albus Dumbledore was - and here no one, if outright asked, could have found a single suitable term - losing the faith of his staff. Most of them had begun questioning the Headmaster's capability - in private, of course - since the fiasco with Professor Quirrell, and the incident with the basilisk the year before - however hushed up - hadn't done anything to reassure them. Now, with Severus Snape vanishing and Lucius Malfoy removing his son from the school, the unspoken conversations had begun. A Professor would glance around the staffroom, ensuring the Headmaster hadn't crept in, and then look towards Minerva McGonagall, who would somehow fail to meet their eyes. Considering her usual response in these moments was to meet the glance head-on and raise an eyebrow, the staff were getting very jittery indeed.

It was fortunate that no one thought to confront Dumbledore, who was too busy attempting to play God to see the slow mutiny forming right at his seat of power. Remus Lupin, however, knew _exactly_ what was going on...

* * *

Draco still wasn't sure that he hadn't dreamed the events of the last week. He'd been unexpectedly called home, found his mother weeping on his Godfather's knee, found his mother was pregnant, been informed that his Godfather was being used by Dumbledore, gained a sister, had the knowledge of Occlumency shoved into his head, and learned that his Godfather was actually his father and the strange way in which the Malfoy 'family' actually worked.

His head was still reeling from the way he'd been 'taught' Occlumency. They hadn't had enough time, or so his...fathers...had said, for him to learn it the 'proper' way. Instead Severus, a Master Occlumens, had forcefully planted the well, _habits_, he supposed, that meant he now had his own Occlumency shields and knew how to maintain and replace them in the event of them falling.

Knowing Occlumency, however, meant that he was now privy to several secrets that would otherwise have been kept from him, however, such as the Headmaster's manipulations, and his parent's plans to ensnare him in his own web of lies. It also meant he'd been introduced to the bizarre workings of the Malfoy family - including the bizarre circumstances that meant both Severus _and_ Lucius were his fathers...

All in all, Draco thought he'd managed to cope with everything with a startling degree of aplomb. Then again, it might just be that he hadn't had time to relax and let everything sink in. Well, as long as any mental breakdowns had the courtesy to hold off until _after_ the end-of-year exams. He'd delivered his father's letter to Professor Lupin, and with the end of the year only two weeks away he highly doubted that he'd have to play courier again before then.

* * *

If it hadn't been imperative that Dumbledore neither knew nor even suspected he wasn't 'addicted', Remus Lupin would have been openly fuming. The absolute _gall_ of the man, to attempt to control him via his lycanthropy, via his utter refusal to harm another. It brought all his previous regard for the man crashing down.

Once upon a time Remus had been so, so grateful to Albus for allowing him, despite his lycanthropy, to attend Hogwarts. There he'd found not only true friends, but his mate, and life had seemed worth living, despite the Dark Lord rising to power. Then his world had come crashing down around him. Sirius' betrayal, Lily, James and Peter's consequent deaths... He had thrown himself into his studies, first in an attempt to forget, then in order to be able to fight should another Dark Lord rise or Voldemort return. Throughout it all, his one constant had been Albus Dumbledore.

He had feared for Harry of course, sent to live with muggle relatives who loathed magic, but werewolves were not permitted to adopt 'uninfected' children. He thought about visiting, discussed and argued it with Albus many times, only to be dissuaded each time. The wards wouldn't permit 'dark' creatures to approach, the Death Eaters were still searching for a target for their revenge, the blood wards were still very delicate... He'd heard all the excuses and accepted them each time, because it was Albus Dumbledore, and he wouldn't do anything to endanger Harry. Eventually - and it would be to his everlasting shame now - he had given in and stopped asking. He'd been too naive, fooled by the Headmaster's facade.

Now he wondered if Dumbledore hadn't had another reason for keeping him from the Dursleys. After all, if he'd discovered Harry had been moved, the wolf wouldn't have allowed him to rest until he was convinced his 'cub' - the last survivor of his 'pack' - was safe, until he knew exactly where Harry was.

Well, he knew Albus' true colours now, and he also knew that Harry would not be safe whilst he was within range of the Headmaster's manipulations. The problem was, he had absolutely no idea where Harry _was_. Perhaps, now that he was supposedly reliant on the poison Snape had been adding to the Wolfsbane, Dumbledore would let more of his secrets slip...no, it was unlikely with the way the Headmaster liked to play his cards so close to his chest.

Lucius had also claimed that he had taken steps to ensure that future batches of Wolfsbane wouldn't be similarly contaminated, and in light of that had also declared his debt repaid. Remus hoped that didn't mean Severus had...met with an unfortunate accident - as his continued absence was suggesting to most of the staff. Fortunately, between the wording of the reply and the fact that he was pretty damn sure that Severus and Lucius were lovers, Remus suspected the Potions Master was either not returning, or returning only when they had found a way to circumvent whatever method Dumbledore was using to control him.

Well, there _were_ things that he hadn't told Lucius - things someone seeking to topple Dumbledore would find quite...interesting. Oh, he hadn't forgotten that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater, and neither was he foolish enough to think his information wouldn't find its way back to Voldemort, but if he could find Harry, well, as a werewolf he knew how to run, how to cover his tracks, and how to hide, _very_ well.

But a letter wouldn't do for the information that was his last bargaining chip, no, this meeting would have to be in person...

* * *

Sirius Black had never been a good patient - Gods knew he had to have driven the Hogwarts Mediwitch, Poppy Pomphrey, to distraction whenever he'd ended up in her domain - and the four months of forced minimal activity whilst his wounds healed had been pure torture.

Seeing Remus hadn't helped either, for it was painfully obvious the werewolf still considered him a traitor. The nightmares had started up again after that, although they might also have been thanks to the large gash on the back of his head. Needless to say, as bad as the Azkaban-induced nightmares were, they had been spiced up by the addition of acromantulas - a creature he was currently rating just below dementors on his list of 'things to avoid'.

But now he was healed - or mostly healed - Sirius was determined to get into the school and catch Pettigrew. Once he'd done that, _then_ he could finally insist on seeing his Godson. Once he'd cleared his name, not even Dumbledore could prevent him from seeing Harry.

He'd _nearly_ had the rat before, in the tower, but somehow Pettigrew had gotten wind of him, and had fled the scene. This time, Sirius smirked to himself, the rat would find himself being _driven_. He knew Pettigrew well, after all, and if he spooked him in the Great Hall, the coward would undoubtedly flee into the dungeons, through the secret passage, across the grounds to the whomping willow, and from there into the shrieking shack. That was what Sirius was counting on anyway. Still, he would find out for certain in a couple of days time...

* * *

Something had changed with Hermione, Ron mused to himself, catching himself as he went to touch the pocket Scabbers was currently curled up in. He'd honestly believed Crookshanks had killed the rat - until Hagrid had returned it to him that morning. He'd been mortified to discover he'd been wrong, and had - in a display of manners drummed into all the Weasley children by their mother - instantly gone to apologise profusely to Hermione.

She hadn't even batted an eyelash. There wasn't a single comment, a single word, a single _look_ to say 'I told you so'. That was _very_ out of character for Hermione. In fact, he'd thought maybe she hadn't heard him, but when he repeated himself she'd snapped at him in an uncharacteristic display of temper. Then he'd thought that maybe she was just holding a grudge - but that wasn't like Hermione _either_.

He'd even gone so far as to mention it to Shamus and Dean, who'd both shrugged it off and suggested that maybe it was 'that time of the month'. The phrase had confused him until Shamus had quietly whispered the wizarding equivalent in his ear. Even the memory caused him to flush slightly.

But even that explanation didn't seem to ring true to Ron's mind. Despite having fallen out with her, he _had_ noticed that she wasn't doing as well as normal in classes, and her attention span seemed to have fallen as well. Not to mention that she hadn't had a fit when she got an 'E' on a piece of transfigurations homework.

Well, maybe it was a combination of those things - certainly the only teacher who seemed at all concerned was Professor Lupin, and that might be because she'd said something in her extra defence lessons. Ron hoped it was just that - he didn't like this 'new' Hermione very much...

* * *

Something was coming, she could tell, and it had put her nerves on edge all day. As a result she had been struggling to focus her inner eye enough to sense how 'true' her students predictions were, and was slightly worried that some of them she might have been a little harsh with. Still, she knew already those who had even a fraction of the Sight - the last of whom, a red-haired boy known by the name 'Ronald Weasley', had just left - and she would ensure that they continued to learn, albeit without them realising. It was extremely dangerous to have even a touch of the Sight, in this day and age. There were just too many people who were willing to go to great length to bend the odds in their favour, and that was exactly what a Seer, under the right - or wrong - conditions could do.

'_Good day, my dear..._' Sibyll blinked once, twice, then passed her hand over her face and shook her head, attempting to dispel the double vision and confusion that had just hit her. She wondered if perhaps it was a little too hot for the amount of incense she was burning, but the students expected it...her mind was wandering. Who had she Seen, who had she just greeted...yet not Seen nor greeted...?

She waited, tense and uncertain, feeling as if she was suddenly in the eye of a great psychic storm that threatened to tear her limb from limb if she made a wrong move. There was nothing. Still not relaxing, she clipped the burning incense sticks, opened a window and used a quick spell to clear the tower of the smothering odour. Her head began to clear - usually detrimental for her ability to See, and the reason she tended to have incense burning during classes - but the feeling of tension, expectation, remained.

Ten minutes passed without another flash of the Sight, though she almost felt that she could reach out and touch the phantom she had Seen. _What_ had she Seen? It hadn't been the future, nor the past...an alternate present? The winds of fate had been disturbed - everything she had Seen for almost the last nine years had held echoes of it...was that missing strand in the weave now making its effects felt? Contrary to what muggles seemed to believe, fate did not just 'recover' when the actions of man changed its direction. No, fate was the agency of the world, the method by which it maintained balance and stabilised itself against the ravages of the creatures upon its face. Not everyone was fated, but those few, key individuals who were... Seers strove _never_ to interfere with fated individuals, not unless they were prompted by a True Saying to do so. She had meddled with fate once, when she was younger, and not only had she been disowned by her family, but she had brought about a potentially catastrophic imbalance in the world.

It was a decision she bitterly regretted now, now she was old enough to understand the full consequences of her actions. She had made a rash and ill-thought out choice, and she felt certain that it was coming back to haunt her. Or perhaps the world, fate, destiny, whatever you called it, was using her as its agency, using her to correct the wrong she had done it - there was the True Saying that she had given in front of Albus Dumbledore, after all.

At that moment, almost as if thinking of True Sayings had summoned one, her eyes rolled backwards in her head and she began to speak, the words faithfully captured by the small recording orb she always kept on her for just that purpose...

* * *

In many ways she was glad the True Saying had happened when it did. No one had overheard it, so it was now up to her whether or not she told anyone, and if so, who. After all, once she revealed that she had a means of recording her True Sayings, Dumbledore would realise she knew all of the one she had given within his presence. Then again, it seemed that he didn't truly believe that it had been a True Saying, so there was little point in informing him of another one, which he would undoubtedly also class as false. Although, it would be amusing to see his reaction when they came true...

No...she had made an uninformed choice the last time she had been presented with a crossroads and the power to influence the direction taken. This time...well, she would take the True Saying to the Headmaster, but she would attend to possible signs as she made her way to his office. If fate wished her to keep this True Saying to herself, it could send her a sign to say as much.

There was still an hour before the evening meal, so Dumbledore would most likely still be in his office - it was probably best that she got this over and done with before she drove herself mad with indecisiveness.

Her mind made up, Sibyll descended from her Tower, and made her way to the headmaster's office. The gargoyle blocking the stairs looked suspiciously smug as she whispered the password to it, so she was paying more attention to it than she might normally have done, and spotted the scrap of paper that fell from behind it and landed squarely in her path. She'd been expecting a sign, but not quite such a literal one...

"Oh honestly Sibyll." Minerva McGonagall's voice from behind her made her jump. The Transfigurations Professor looked both irritated and amused - an interesting combination to say the least. "It's only a piece of paper - it won't bite." Trelawney looked at the scrap of paper again. It was tattered and torn, the dried mud suggesting that it had made its way there on the sole of someone's shoe - but how long ago? "Here." Minerva leant past her and picked the paper up. "See, it's only a doodle." She thrust the image in front of her...

* * *

As she showed the doodle to Trelawney, Minerva wondered what reaction she would get. It was obvious the Divinations Professor was spooked by something - she'd ventured out of her tower for starters - otherwise she'd not even have noticed the scrap of paper on the floor. As reactions went, however, she certainly hadn't expected the other woman to let out a shriek of horror and flee as fast as she could, back towards her tower - or at least, Minerva assumed that was where she was going, _she_ certainly wasn't going to give chase and find out.

Shaking her head in disgust, Minerva none-the-less pocketed the scrap of paper before realising, in the confusion of the moment, she'd forgotten what she was going to see Dumbledore about. Rolling her eyes, she decided it couldn't have been too important if she'd allowed _Trelawney_ to make her forget about it. Well, might as well follow her whimsy and see if she couldn't find out what the doodle was supposed to mean before the evening meal - it might give her a laugh at least.

* * *

_"The Devil's Broom: The Devil's Broom, also known as 'The Devil's Eye' in Muggle circles, is one of the 77 minor complex signs. On its own it has no greater meaning than the sum of its parts (see 'The Long Road' and 'Devil's Grass' for more details), however in conjunction with other signs its meaning changes accordingly. For instance..."_

Minerva sighed, skipped the examples of how other signs changed the meaning of that particular sign - which _did_ look almost exactly like the doodle, if one held the doodle in the right way and squinted slightly - bookmarked the page with a scrap of parchment, and looked up the Long Road.

_"The Long Road: The Long Road is one of the 346 simple signs and indicates a physical or mental journey of considerable length, culminating in a life-changing or far-reaching decision._

Trelawney...making a journey of considerable length and making an important decision? She swallowed her snort of disbelief. Stranger, and more disturbing, things _had_ happened - her mind flashed back to Poppy's pronouncement that she'd had several memory charms placed on her, her discovery when the first block was removed that it had been _Albus_, of all people, to place it upon her... Maybe...maybe there was more to Trelawney than anyone thought. After all, if she was a True Seer, then she would be a target for anyone - _everyone_ - for whom knowing the future would be advantageous... Thoughtful now, she looked up Devil's Grass.

_"Devil's Grass: Devil's Grass, also known as Devil's Weed, is one of the 346 simple signs and indicates a decision, seeming to lead to an undesirable outcome, but potentially the lesser of two evils in the long-term."_

Minerva slammed the book shut, not wanting to contemplate how that meaning might skew the implications of Trelawney's presence outside the Headmaster's office. She clung to her mantra of 'Divinations is flaky, no one can know exactly what will happen, no one can change their destiny' like a lifeline. Even as a sceptic, the thought that Trelawney had freaked out at the sight of what looked like a symbol indicating she could - or would - make a decision that could change the future, was a highly disturbing one...

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was feeling quite pleased with himself and how the year had gone. Remus Lupin had been avoiding meals and, he suspected, taking regular doses of Pepper-Up potion in order to teach his lessons. It meant, at last, that he had nothing to fear should the werewolf attempt to cause problems, or should he simply become an obstacle that needed to be removed.

He'd been quite worried at the end of April - not that he'd shown it of course - when Lupin hadn't demonstrated the signs that Severus had informed him would prove the poison was now required on a regular basis. Fortunately he'd realised that Lupin probably hadn't been expecting the Wolfsbane he'd made sure was provided in September, and had consequently already taken a dose from his usual source. The April blue moon had been a blessing in that respect, since even with September falling through, May's dose had made nine - his theory had been vindicated in the way Remus' energy had dropped to an all-time low. It would be possible, now, to allow Snape to remove the strength-sapping elements of the additives - his pet werewolf would be most effective at full strength, after all.

His other problems, however, were not resolving themselves so clearly. Draco Malfoy had, as Lucius had promised, returned to school in time for his exams - but he had changed, and Dumbledore didn't like the change. An extremely light surface scan - so light that not even Snape, in his right mind, would have detected it - had revealed extremely strong occlumency barriers..._Master_ level barriers in fact. Unless Draco had been practising the mind arts from birth, there was no way he could have developed that level of competency during the week he'd been absent. Obviously Draco had learned something during his absence that Lucius was bound and determined to keep a secret - so determined, in fact, that he'd procured an item of some sort to protect against legilimency attacks...

Severus Snape was also still absent - whereabouts and condition unknown. With the substitute professor that wasn't an issue for the time being, but Lupin's doctored Wolfsbane would run out in several months time, and _only_ a Master could make Wolfsbane, never mind the altered form. Well, the loss of the werewolf might be regrettable, but he had no plans based around Lupin, other than keeping him silent about anything he managed to discover - especially about Harry Potter - and the loss wouldn't be a critical one.

Sirius Black was also still an unknown. Despite Lupin claiming that he'd smelt the other man's wounds and thought they might be fatal, and the fact that there hadn't been any sightings of the convict since then, he was reluctant to write him off as 'dead'. Lupin might have been exaggerating because he wanted revenge on the 'traitor', and Sirius could well just be biding his time so that everyone had dropped their guards again... Also the man _had_ broken out of Azkaban, and if the Phantoms had helped him there, then who was to say they hadn't stepped in again?

Quite _why_ Sirius had broken out was _still_ a mystery, and a particularly annoying one at that. Dumbledore had a suspicion that Sirius' reason 'why' was the crucial motivation for his actions - which he already knew, unlike the assumptions of most - was _not_ to kill Harry Potter.

What then, he mused, staring absently at the Gryffindor table, was it? Black wasn't a Death Eater, in fact, was about as opposed to Voldemort as you could get, so none of the 'called to help his Master return' conspiracy theories held a grain of truth. It was also highly unlikely that he'd chosen to wait twelve years to attempt to contact Harry - whom he _had_ to assume was under the misapprehension that he was a traitor...

* * *

Sirius Black, disguised in his unregistered animagus form, crept closer to the doors of the Great Hall and the sounds of people beyond them. He didn't know why, but he'd come to the conclusion - whilst his injuries were healing - that Remus, for his own reasons, _hadn't_ told anyone that he was an animagus... He didn't know what to think about that, whether it was because Remus - and Moony - wanted to take their revenge personally, or whether, perhaps, there was some doubt in his mate's mind as to whether he really _was_ a traitor. He was praying for the latter, but the way Remus had been almost feral in his pursuit the last time he'd broken into Hogwarts, he suspected the former.

He paused, some sixth or seventh sense prompting him to pause in the shadows off to one side of the doors into the Great Hall itself. This would be his last opportunity to strike before the students left for the summer; he _couldn't_ afford for this to go wrong. If Ronald Weasley 'escaped' now, it was likely that he'd never see hide nor hair of Pettigrew again - now the rat knew he was on his trail - no matter how hard he searched...

* * *

Lucius wasn't sure what Narcissa was staring at - or maybe it was listening to, the way her head was cocked to one side - but it didn't seem to be anything within the room - or his hearing. He didn't dare comment, however, since the last time he'd broken the silence - pointing out that Severus _was_ bleeding to death in front of them - she'd hexed him into the wall so hard he'd been knocked unconscious.

When he'd regained consciousness he'd cursed whoever was responsible for the power boost witches experienced for several months after giving birth, although he'd had the sense to do his cursing silently. He'd noticed, however, that whilst Severus' wounds hadn't been healed, and were still bleeding profusely, there had been several empty vials that he suspected had contained a Blood-Replenishing potion of some kind.

"Distraction!" Narcissa's voice snapped Lucius out of his musing, just in time to see the portkey in Severus' hand activate, and the Potions Master vanish with a soft 'pop'. Whatever Narcissa was up to - for she had put entirely too much thought and effort into this scheme - he knew he would have to put the pieces of the puzzle together himself.

* * *

The battered and bleeding body of Severus Snape appeared without warning in the Great Hall, breaking Dumbledore's train of thought, and causing chaos to break out amongst the students as the alarms for an unauthorised portkey went off.

"Silence!" Dumbledore ordered, boosting his voice with a wandless Sonorus charm. The hall subsided into mutters, attention divided between him and the Potions Professor they'd been told had taken a 'leave of absence'. "It seems Professor Snape has had a slight accident; please, continue with your meal whilst I take him to the Hospital Wing." He hurriedly made his way around the Head Table and levitated Severus' body. Blood dripped, ominously slowly, leaving a grisly trail behind them as they headed out of the hall.

Snape was in extremely poor shape, near death by blood loss if Dumbledore wasn't mistaken. He wondered whether it was worth hurrying to Poppy in time for the Potions Master to be saved and hesitated slightly before deciding that he wanted to know first-hand what had happened. Besides, he still had a use for Severus - for now. Silencing the alarms with the counter-charm, Dumbledore hurried towards the Hospital Wing.

* * *

It wasn't just the imperative to keep Dumbledore unaware that he was not, as the Headmaster thought, now addicted to the poison that Snape had been adding to his Wolfsbane, that caused Remus Lupin to plead exhaustion and skip the evening meal yet again. Honestly, he wasn't sure that he could stay in the Headmaster's proximity for so long without saying or doing something - such as attempting to rip the man's throat out - that would give him away. He was well aware that, should he become a liability in Dumbledore's eyes, he would fall prey to the 'curse' on the DADA position - as had been hinted after he'd lied in order to chase Sirius into the Forbidden Forest.

Missing the meal probably wasn't particularly healthy, but it did give him extra time in which he could, as he was, sit and contemplate the twists and turns that his life had taken. It hadn't occurred to him previously, but now his eyes had been opened to the possibility that Dumbledore had been manipulating him ever since that fateful Halloween - and possibly even before then, when he was actually permitted to attend Hogwarts - he had been re-examining everything that he'd thought he'd known, everything that he'd been told by Dumbledore and had believed without question. Things such as Sirius being the traitor...

Sirius...his mate... He hadn't wanted to believe it when he'd heard, hadn't wanted to believe that he'd misjudged so badly, but it had been Dumbledore's word, and Sirius had already been carted off to Azkaban. Listening to the eyewitness reports - he'd insisted on that much at least - he had bowed his head and accepted defeat, refusing to listen to the tiny part of his consciousness that insisted Sirius should at least be given the chance to defend or condemn himself under Veritaserum. Was it possible that it had all been a lie?

Remus jumped and almost overbalanced on his chair as the castle alarms began shrieking, alerting the occupants to the use of an unauthorised portkey - or portkeys - into the building itself. Frantically he grabbed for the Marauder's Map - hidden but never quite forgotten beneath the books on his desk.

Two dots, labelled as 'Albus Dumbledore' and 'Severus Snape' were winding through the corridors towards the Hospital Wing, a slight trail indicating that they had come from the direction of the Great Hall. As he watched, aware that, had it been an attack, Albus Dumbledore would have remained at the scene of the fight, the dots hesitated, then quickened their pace towards the Hospital Wing, the alarms silencing a moment later.

Was it possible, he wondered, that Sirius had managed to...appropriate...a compatible wand? Might Sirius have been behind Snape's disappearance and subsequent reappearance? Normally he wouldn't have bet on an injured Sirius getting the better of Severus, but with the Potions Master under Dumbledore's control... No, Severus _had_ to have been in Lucius' hands - how else would Malfoy Senior have been able to confirm his suspicions about the Wolfsbane _and_ ensure that it wouldn't be contaminated in a similar way in the future?

Maybe it was just coincidence that Snape had reappeared now, but Sirius would, Remus was well aware, have healed from his injuries - if he hadn't sustained any more in the mean time, and even if he _didn't_ have a wand he could use. Scanning the Map, he quickly discovered that his hunch was correct. There was a dot just outside the doors into the Great Hall that was labelled 'Sirius Black'.

Did that mean Sirius was in contact with the Malfoys? How else could the timing of Snape's return - which had conveniently removed Albus Dumbledore from the Great Hall - been so perfect? He lost sight of the 'Sirius Black' dot as it entered the cluttered Great Hall, but still he didn't act. If Sirius did something in the hall then there were all the professors at the Head Table to deal with it, so that _couldn't_ be his plan - even if he _was_ a Gryffindor, Sirius was obviously acting with a purpose, which meant he _wasn't_ suicidal. But Remus knew that if he were to suddenly rush into the fray, Sirius might just react, unthinkingly, and that could put everyone in the Great Hall at risk, especially if Sirius _had_ liberated a wand...

* * *

Having just seen Albus Dumbledore hurry past with a nearly-dead Severus Snape floating behind him - and good riddance to the slimy Slytherin bastard if he died before he reached the Hospital Wing - Sirius wasn't at all surprised when his quiet entrance into the Great Hall went unnoticed by staff and students alike, despite the alarms having fallen silent even before he slipped in. It meant that he was almost to his target before a Hufflepuff caught sight of him, shrieked, and then fainted - probably believing he was a Grim. It didn't bode well for most of the students in the hall if he was, Sirius thought wryly to himself.

Of course, the Hufflepuff had alerted everyone in the hall to his presence - including his target, Peter Pettigrew. Element of surprise gone, Sirius crouched low to the ground and then leapt onto the Gryffindor table, scattering plates, goblets, food, drink and cutlery in every direction.

"No! Scabbers, come back!" Sirius' head swung in the direction of the shout, just in time to catch a glimpse of the rat, _Pettigrew_ fleeing towards the Hufflepuff table. Growling deep in his throat, Sirius leapt back down to the floor and charged after his prey. The Hufflepuffs scattered, shrieking in terror as he slid under the first bench and then toppled the second bench as he burst from under the table, in hot pursuit of the rat now scampering under the Ravenclaw table. The process was repeated with the second table, although he knocked a Ravenclaw boy to the floor when he tried to get in the way.

A jet of red light flashed past his side as he skidded on bloodied flagstones, and he glimpsed red hair and a pointed wand before his claws found purchase and he was bolting towards the door that he'd just seen Pettigrew flee through. He'd forgotten quite how fast Peter could be in rat form - with incentive anyway.

* * *

Remus could've sworn time stopped as he spotted a lone dot - moving at high speed - flee the Great Hall. It was labelled 'Peter Pettigrew' - the name of a, supposedly, dead man. As it reached the dungeon staircase and the dot labelled 'Sirius Black' exited the Great Hall - obviously in pursuit - his earlier fears resurfaced. But he refused to hesitate any longer, he refused to try and draw any more conclusions on his own when it was perfectly possible to catch the 'traitor' and the 'dead man' and get the truth from them.

He noted the direction the dots were proceeding in - Sirius Black now being followed by 'Ronald Weasley' - and quickly realised which secret passage they were heading for. There was only one place they could be going from there - the Whomping Willow...but he'd have to prevent Ronald Weasley's headlong charge first. Fortunately there was a secret passage that would bring him out just behind the redhead...if he hurried.

Certain that he knew where the other two Marauders were heading, and not wanting the Map to fall into anyone else's hands, Remus deactivated it and tucked it securely into his desk before quickly heading out. He didn't realise, as he sprinted down the secret passage, that his complete accord with the wolf inside seemed to have overridden his exhaustion completely...

* * *

Ron Weasley was starting to think that perhaps impulsively chasing after the large black dog - the _grim_ - that seemed intent on catching Scabbers, was not the brightest idea he'd ever had. He'd lost his wand as he scrambled out of the chaos in the Great Hall, and he wasn't even certain that anyone had seen him bolt out of the room after his familiar anyway, which meant he was both without a means of defence - or offence - if he _did_ somehow get to Scabbers before the worst happened, and he couldn't count on a timely rescue by someone else either.

Still, he wasn't about to give up and leave Scabbers to his fate - that wouldn't make him much of a Gryffindor...

He skidded blindly around yet another corner, and crashed bodily into a familiar figure who was just stepping out of a seemingly-solid wall. As he staggered backwards, mildly stunned, Ron vaguely noted that whoever he'd collided with hadn't budged an inch - it had been like running into a wall, albeit a human-shaped one... Since when had Professor Lupin been so strong, he wondered as the man in question turned towards him. Their DADA Professor always looked so thin and sickly - well, he certainly looked thin at the moment, amber eyes almost glowing, wolf like, as he stared at him...

Several things suddenly made sense to Ron Weasley; why their DADA Professor's boggart had been a 'crystal ball' - only it hadn't, had it? - and why he was always absent from lessons around the time of the full moon...

"W...werewolf!" He half-yelped, half-whimpered in fear. Lupin nodded wearily.

"Yes, Mr Weasley, I am a werewolf, as you will find the other Professors already know." He raised his wand, looking slightly apologetic. "This is for your own good, I'm afraid. _Stupefy_." The red light crashed into his chest, and Ron Weasley fell to the floor, unconscious.

* * *

How had Ronald Weasley suddenly realised he was a werewolf, Lupin wondered, sprinting after Sirius and Peter, the smell of fear from the rat quite clear in the air before him. Oh, he knew Snape had been instructed by Dumbledore to ignore his teaching plan that time and cover werewolves, but still no one had seemed to realise _why_, or if they had, they hadn't mentioned it or let it affect their behaviour towards him. Then again, none of them had run into him like that...

Realisation dawned as he rounded a corner and caught a glimpse of Sirius turning yet another corner just ahead - proof that he was somehow managing to not just keep pace, but catch up with the two sprinting animagi - and found himself growling deep in his throat. He and Moony, the name James Potter had given to his wolf-self, were acting not _almost_ in complete accord, but in _actual_ complete accord. It was a liberating feeling, the strength that he hadn't even realised he was using, the heightened senses that he'd accepted without realising where they were originating...

No wonder there was so much prejudice against werewolves, so much propaganda touting the worst opinions of a minority so that the majority feared themselves and strove not to accept the wolf within, caging it and driving it to insanity on the rare occasions - full moons - that it was able to get out. Somehow, now that he had, albeit inadvertently, discovered what _really_ happened when a werewolf 'lost' its human self to its wolf self, Remus didn't think he'd even need Wolfsbane on the full moon.

He put on a burst of speed as he saw the secret passage ahead beginning to close. It was gloomy in the passage, more so as the wall closed up behind him, but Remus didn't really notice, his heightened senses instinctively compensating by increasing his spatial awareness. Bright light up ahead indicated that Peter, at least, had already made it out onto the grounds, and the black dog that leapt into the light just ahead of him was Sirius. The chase was still on...

They must have made an odd sight if anyone had seen them from the Castle, Remus thought absently. Peter wouldn't be visible, his rat animagus form too small to be seen at that distance, so it would look somewhat like he was chasing a runaway dog. Of course, he was still the only one who knew that the black dog was, in fact, Sirius Black. Well, Ronald Weasley might have guessed, although it was unlikely, but if he spoke to the Headmaster - which _was_ likely considering someone would find him stunned in the dungeons - then Albus would have enough pieces of the puzzle to realise the truth...and to realise that Remus had known from the beginning and _hadn't_ told him.

That didn't bode well for his continued health, Remus realised, especially now he was supposedly 'dependent' on Dumbledore - well, Snape really - if he wanted to live. And if Dumbledore consequently realised that he'd accepted his wolf side? No...he didn't fancy the odds at all. Maybe it would be safer to get out whilst he could and go into hiding...

* * *

Sirius wasn't completely unaware that they were being pursued, but he _was_ too intent on catching Peter to care. That was, until said pursuer was still behind them when they emerged onto the grounds from the secret passage. Only Remus Lupin could know that particular passage well enough to keep up with them in the dark, and he certainly hadn't heard any spells being cast.

Remus...could pose a problem. The werewolf did have several advantages - namely a wand, and probably heightened senses even around a week after the full moon - and he probably still thought that he, Sirius, was the traitor...

Then again, Remus had always been the least hasty of the Marauders, always willing to hear both sides of the story before committing himself to a decision. But the circumstances had never quite been the same as these, with the blame for the betrayal - and subsequent deaths - of two close friends laying squarely on the shoulders of the wrong person. Would Remus still keep his calm, still listen to him long enough for the truth to be heard? Or would the wolf be so incensed at its mate's perceived betrayal that Remus would simply lay into him without mercy - Gods knew the ministry would congratulate him...

The slightest whisper of sound and a sudden change in the pressure of the air around him was all the warning Sirius had before the whomping willow, living up to its name, slammed a branch into his side. Sirius howled in agony, certain half his ribs had just been broken, and aware that he had just lost the mobility required to dodge the tree's flailing limbs.

No...no, he couldn't have made it this far just to be thwarted...no! Determinedly he pushed himself back onto his feet and approached the willow once more, ribs aching with each panting breath. Remus wasn't far away, and each second meant Wormtail was putting more distance between them...time was running out...

* * *

Remus had fallen back deliberately as another factor had added itself to the chase; Crookshanks, Hermione Granger's part-cat, part-kneazle familiar, had streaked out of the forbidden forest as they drew closer to the whomping willow and, knowing kneazles were very particular about their 'friends', he was intrigued as to what would happen.

He hadn't expected Sirius, apparently not paying as much attention to his surroundings as he should have been, to get thrown bodily aside by the whomping willow as he virtually ran _into_ one of the flailing branches. Sirius, however, seemed - unsurprisingly if he really _was_ chasing Peter Pettigrew - determined to get past the tree somehow. Remus didn't think he would succeed, not without turning into a human and finding a branch to poke the knot that calmed the tree, but Crookshanks, apparently of the opinion that Sirius was trustworthy, streaked past and clawed the knot, clearing the path for Sirius to enter the passage to the shrieking shack.

Increasing his speed, Remus finally drew his wand - it was time to find out the truth in all this madness...

* * *

There were few things in life that Peter _wasn't_ scared of, to one degree or another, even if he showed no sign of it when he had others to back him up - or hide behind. Sirius Black, however, especially one that was out for his blood and had absolutely nothing to lose, terrified him. It was little wonder, therefore, when he'd overheard the Weasley's talking about how Sirius Black had managed to escape _Azkaban_ of all places, that he'd begun to lose both weight and fur in his anxiety. Peter, after all, had _no_ doubts, even from the start, as to _who_ Sirius Black was hunting...and it _wasn't_ the Potter brat or the Dark Lord.

This was the closest Sirius had gotten so far - no thanks to the Granger girl's bloody _cat_. Damn thing was _far_ too intelligent for its own good. The pace was starting to catch up with him, however, and whilst he crouched in the shadowed corner of the shrieking shack, panting for breath, Peter was aware that his luck was _not_ going to last him much longer.

His only hope was Lupin - providing the werewolf hadn't figured out the truth already...well, if he could just avoid capture long enough for Lupin to catch up with Sirius, the chances were that Black would be dead before he could defend himself. He wondered whether it had already happened - Sirius was taking his time catching up anyway. Peter had it all planned out; from here he would make a break for the forbidden forest and pray that he could lead Black into the Dementors...

* * *

Peter had to be tiring, Sirius reflected wearily, head swimming with the pain of his ribs as he darted into the passageway ahead of Remus Lupin. Unfortunately his injuries would now put them on an equal footing - not what he'd planned, but then again, when did things _ever_ go to plan for him? He stifled a sobbing howl as he recalled his plan to 'protect' James and Lily...

The rat would pay dearly...and slowly if he had his way...

* * *

Hot on Sirius' heels, Remus winced as the mournful howl reverberated through the tunnel and quickened his pace. He didn't know whether Sirius still remembered, but animagi didn't transform back into their human shapes if killed in their animagus form, and the ministry would be _most_ unwilling to accept a dead rat as evidence of _anything_.

There was a scuffling of claws on wood from the room ahead, and Remus surged forwards, praying his intervention wouldn't come too late...

* * *

The holes had been boarded up! Peter, Wormtail, scurried frantically along the edge of the room, searching in vain for the chinks and holes he had previously used to come and go during full moons - they were all gone, the room transformed into a dead end...a trap.

His eyes widened almost comically as Padfoot appeared in the doorway and the room was filled with the overpowering stench of dog and...blood? So Sirius hadn't gotten past the whomping willow without paying a price. Maybe that would give him the chance he needed to slip past and out of the trap he'd been driven into. He waited, finding panic giving way to determination, knowing that to mess this up would no doubt be his last mistake.

Padfoot moved further into the room, head down, clearly searching for the tell-tale concentration of his scent - his location. A little more...just a little more... A noise beyond the door spooked Padfoot, his head swinging up and his body half-turning in the direction of the sound, the direction _away_ from him...

Peter bolted for the door, but he was further away than he'd judged, and exhaustion had taken its toll, making him slower and clumsier. Padfoot whipped back around to face him and lunged, almost in one motion. He skittered to one side, or tried to, but his hind claws caught in the rotted floorboard and he fell instead, the uneven movement causing him to twist and roll right into the slavering jaws.

Then he was being lifted between rough canine teeth, and he knew this was the end. Absolute and utter panic overcame him, and he succumbed completely to the rat's instincts, emptying his bladder and voiding his bowels even as he clawed and scratched and squirmed in an attempt to get free...

* * *

"_Petrificus Totalis_!" Time seemed to freeze along with the dog and its victim. Remus breathed a sigh of relief as he discovered that, although very, _very_ nearly too late, Pettigrew was still alive. Aware that his wand wasn't the best tool for the job, he nonetheless used it to carefully lever Padfoot's jaws open long enough to remove the frozen Wormtail. "Sorry Sirius." He muttered, placing Wormtail on the floor in the middle of the room. "_Contra Commutatius_." He incanted clearly, closing his eyes briefly against the vivid blue-white flash of light. Unlike a voluntary transformation back into human form, the spell had to force each part of the 'rat' to convert back to its human form in turn - a very painful process if Peter's screams were anything to go by.

The spell had broken the already-weakened body bind, and Lupin cast a charm to prevent Peter transforming back to his rat form before binding him with conjured ropes and silencing him. Then he turned to Padfoot, who was managing to look both pleading, hopeful, wrathful and nauseous...?

"_Finite incantatem_" Lupin had held his wand ready to guard against either himself or the bound Pettigrew, but instead Padfoot morphed back into Sirius with a soft 'pop' of displaced air, only for the ragged man to lurch into a corner of the room, bend over and begin to violently heave and retch. Remus watched with some concern, but figured it was only a psychologically-induced reaction to having had a rat in his mouth.

"Gods-damned, thrice-cursed, **son-of-a-_bitch!_**" Sirius exploded after his heaves died away. He looked pale and waxy, frailer than Lupin had ever suspected or even _expected_. Where had he found the strength to do the impossible and break out of Azkaban, and to then trek the miles from there to Hogwarts, not forgetting the swim through the icy waters of the North Sea... Peter was quailing - as much as his bonds would allow - his expression the frozen terror of a man who knew he was going to die, probably slowly and painfully.

"After all I've learned of Albus this past year, I can't say I'm terribly surprised to discover you're alive Peter." Remus commented, watching Sirius' reaction carefully. Fortunately the other man still seemed weak enough to not be a threat, but he wasn't about to assume that what he saw was the truth of the matter. "Puts the events of November 1981 under a completely different light." Peter's mouth was moving, but the silencing spell around him meant his efforts - to defend or deny no doubt - were in vain. Remus continued to talk, almost to himself, although he scrutinised every movement that Sirius made. "There'd be no reason to hide from the world, not if you were truly innocent, hmm Peter? And if you _weren't_ innocent...well, with Voldemort," Sirius didn't flinch so much as pull himself together more tightly, like a cornered dog ready to attack, "meeting his demise, I shouldn't think the rest of his followers were too...impressed...with you."

"Remus...I..._why didn't you come?_" Sirius' voice was rough with disuse, and perhaps also with misuse, from his time in Azkaban.

"Because I didn't know then, didn't even _suspect_ the things Albus might be prepared to do to achieve his ends." Remus replied quietly, honestly. "And I should have questioned, I really should, because then...then maybe I'd have at least an _idea_ of where Harry is..."

"WHAT!" Sirius roared, straightening with a murderous look in his eyes. Remus realised too late what he'd said, who he'd implicated.

"No! Sirius! Wait!" He lunged for the other Marauder and spun him back into the room by his arm - either his merging with his wolf side had given him more strength, Sirius had seriously lost strength, or a combination of both. "You're a wanted convict, and the only 'evidence' of your innocence would be more than happy to vanish again given half a chance." Sirius shot a murderous glare at Peter, but it proved he was still listening. "I've _watched_ Dumbledore this year, and believe me, if he knows of your innocence, or even suspects, then he's not made a move to do anything about it. On the other hand, he's gone to _great_ lengths to keep the truth about Harry's whereabouts a secret, even to the point of obliviating Hagrid and Minerva McGonagall." Sirius paled slightly, but his expression was still furious and stubborn. "_You_ however, are, by order of the Ministry, to be Kissed as soon as you're captured - or killed if it's easier than capturing you. How difficult do you think _that_ kind of accident is going to be to arrange?"

"Then I'll just have to demand the truth in front of witnesses." Sirius growled, taking a step towards the door once more.

"Sirius, _please_... I...I don't want to lose my mate again..."

* * *

Sirius turned, an expression of shock on his face, not quite believing he'd heard what he thought he had. Moony, _his_ Moony, calling him his mate... He'd barely dared dream of such a thing happening whilst he was in Azkaban, all too aware that the dementors presence would twist it into a nightmare of Remus avowing that he, Sirius, was no mate of his and never would be, traitor that he was...

But shock could only suppress his righteous anger for so long. Remus had inferred that Dumbledore was hiding - or, even worse, had lost! - Harry. Vengeance might have been the reason that he'd broken out of Azkaban, the reason he'd risked everything time and time again in his attempt to finally catch Pettigrew and make the true traitor pay, but how was he to make up for his negligence, his failure, if Harry, _his godson_, was gone? It would mean he had failed again, this time by not being quick enough to act, by trusting in the people he hadn't trusted in the first time...

"Dumbledore can't silence _everyone_, and once the questions are being asked..."

"It'll be too late if you're dead!" Remus interrupted. "Harry is _pack_, _you_ are _pack_, if I know you at least are safe, then I can keep fooling Dumbledore into thinking he has me leashed and blinded to the truth of what he's doing. I can keep being strong without being foolhardy, because I'll have someone to live for." Sirius stared at him, wondering when the last time he'd seen Remus so impassioned was...he couldn't remember and cursed the dementors yet again. "You're planning to go rushing in and confront Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard around, both in terms of raw and political power...and you don't even have a _wand_." The werewolf almost howled the last word and Sirius narrowed his eyes thoughtfully as a vague thought crossed his mind - it eluded his grasp however, and he decided it could wait until later.

"No wand?" Roguish half-smile on his face, Sirius playfully lunged for Remus' wand, taking advantage of the werewolf's distracted state of mind. His reflexes were dulled though, and his strength severely lacking - Sirius, instead of lightly tugging Remus' wand from his grip, misjudged his coordination and grabbed his entire arm instead, sending them both tumbling to the floor when he stumbled on a loose floorboard and lost his balance.

* * *

Peter listened carefully to Remus' impassioned argument, making note of the points he thought the Dark Lord would be most interested in. The Potter brat's disappearance would be worth the most, he decided, since it was _that_ thing's fault that the Dark Lord had been discorporated and his followers forced into hiding. He would need to raise his standing in his master's eyes for the protection that would then afford him against all the other Death Eaters he'd been hiding from for twelve years. He wasn't surprised when Sirius immediately decided to storm off and confront Albus Dumbledore - such a Gryffindor...it was pathetic, no brains or sense of self-preservation whatsoever.

It was interesting to see that Remus seemed to have developed a bit of a backbone these days, arguing against Black...that was something the werewolf would _never_ have done whilst they were at Hogwarts together. Then again, he supposed James and Sirius had never really done something or said anything with such potentially deadly repercussions - well, not in _front_ of Remus anyway...behind his back, well, you only needed to ask Snape about that one - greasy bastard.

But as the grin flashed onto Sirius' face, that grin he recognised so, so well as meaning a prank was about to be pulled, Peter sensed opportunity. Sure, Sirius had been stressed and exhausted by a different set of circumstances, but it was still close enough for him to _know_ that something was going to go wrong...

* * *

"No wand?" Remus heard the words, but he didn't think anything of them, not least because he'd already speculated that Sirius might've stolen a wand already. He only barely saw the movement in his peripheral vision as Sirius lunged, and then, intentionally or not, stumbled and knocked them both to the floor. Thinking the worst, or rather, not thinking at all, Remus reacted instinctively...

* * *

When Lupin's wand rolled away from the two men scuffling on the floor, Peter knew the Gods existed. When it continued rolling close enough for him to get a grip on it with first his foot, then, after some squirming, into his hands, he knew that he was _destined_ to return to his master. He knew he was destined, because not only had the wand come to him, but the silencing spell Lupin had cast was around him, not upon him, so he could still free himself and yet no sound would escape to alert the other two wizards.

He debated binding or even killing Lupin and Black, but the wand didn't like him using it, he'd felt that much when he freed himself, and he didn't dare risk giving away his chance at freedom by botching an attack. Instead he transformed back into his animagus form, and fled for the unblocked doorway as fast as he could go. As had been his original plan, his best hope of escape - especially now Lupin knew where he'd been hiding - lay in the forbidden forest.

* * *

_Sirius wasn't attacking_. Remus finally realised, after what felt like an eternity of throwing punches and attempting to get the other man off him before he achieved his objective, his wand. In fact, he further realised, stilling with one hand caught inside Sirius' hand, all the other wizard was doing was _defending_... As he opened his mouth to speak, however, Sirius' head jerked sideways, and with an oath transformed into Padfoot before hurtling out of the door without a second glance at him.

What had...Pettigrew... Remus glanced over at where Peter had been bound, where now only his wand lay. He supposed he should have been thankful that the traitor hadn't seen fit to attack them whilst they were distracted. But now the chase was on again, and exhaustion was catching up with him...

Clambering to his feet, feeling much older than his scant 34 years, Lupin snatched his wand from where it lay on the floor, and set out in pursuit of his mate...and their prey.

* * *

Sirius hoped Remus was alright, though he couldn't hear the werewolf - his _mate_ - following the renewed chase. But whether or not Remus was following him, the important thing, the key thing, was Peter, fleeing ahead of him. The damned rat had escaped too many times now; he had the devil's own luck. This time he would kill rather than capture - transformations, including the animagus transformation, _could_ be reversed after death, even if the animagus died in their animagus form. He would just have to insist that the process be carried out - and make sure that Peter wasn't swapped for another rat...

Of course, that depended on him surviving long enough to insist on _anything_, especially given Remus' news that he was to be killed or Kissed on sight.

Well, much as he loved Remus, and knew that if anything happened to him it would kill his mate, Sirius' determination to carry out his mission had not wavered one iota. Pettigrew was going to die, in his jaws - his revenge and his penance. _Nothing_ would stop him from seeing the rat dead, even if he had to come back from the _grave_...

* * *

Exhaustion had caught up with him, and Remus didn't have the strength to offer more than a token fight against it. Somewhere just ahead of him, but crashing relentlessly deeper into the forest, was Sirius. Lupin could already taste the bitter ashes of the future, even though he was not, and had never been, a Seer. Sirius had lost the last scraps of true rationality in Azkaban, leaving him only an illusion of the man he had once been. Although he'd ever been tenacious once set on a goal, he _had_, once, been ready to accept council and change his methods when those he knew were 'cleverer' than him advised him to do so...a scion of the Black line could only deny so much of his heritage after all.

But now Sirius was leaving him, once again, chasing his doom as he had twelve years previously. In seeking his revenge, Remus knew, Sirius would find only death, or worse, a dementor...and there was nothing either of them could do about it.

Leaning heavily against a tree, Remus fought the tears that wanted to fall, fought the acknowledgement that this was _not_ going to end well. Yet he couldn't walk away, couldn't quite go so far as to lose _all_ hope. Sirius had escaped Azkaban...surely he could find some way out of the noose fate seemed to be tightening around his neck...

* * *

No! Pettigrew balked at the lake, well aware that he _could_ swim it, even in his animagus form, but a dog would be faster swimming, would have more endurance and be less likely to be attacked by anything living in the water. He _had_ to go around - and that would cost him valuable time and energy... He whipped around at the sound of crashing in the undergrowth, rapidly growing louder, closer...

His whiskers twitched and his fur stood on end, both because of the approaching danger, and because of the sudden drop in...temperature... His ears laid flat as he whipped around to look over the lake again, and then upwards, terror holding him in place. His panting breath began to show in the air, and there were shadows, _hundreds_ of shadows spiral downwards towards the clearing... _Dementors_...

Eyes wide in terror, Peter Pettigrew bolted for the nearest tree whose tangled roots would cradle him safely from the approaching daemons. He didn't have to fear reverting back into his human form, for he'd long since become so accustomed to his animagus form that even if he lost his mind to terror - as he had when Sirius had grabbed him, not an hour ago - he wouldn't accidentally change. No, he could cower in safety beneath the sturdy oak, and when the dementors finally left - they were not after _him_, after all - then he would almost certainly be able to return to his Master without fear of Black.

The realisation, that Black, hard on his heels, was going to run smack into the largest concentration of dementors _ever_, would have had Pettigrew smirking, if rats could smirk. As it was, the rat that dived beneath the oak's sheltering roots was already too distracted by its own memories to truly appreciate the _happy_ thought that his pursuer was about to encounter a deadly - and completely unintentional - trap.

* * *

He was too intent on the trail, too caught up in his thoughts of revenge, too unprepared when he burst into the clearing and slammed into a cold, dark wall of despair. Deep and heartfelt regret was the last thing that crossed his mind in the brief second before the dementors began to close in and his nightmares began to play in his mind, over and over again...

Lily...and James...and now Remus too...he'd betrayed them all, some consciously, some unconsciously, some with more and some with less effort... Even in his attempt to make amends he'd betrayed them, he'd failed, and he'd abandoned Remus...his mate...and Harry, wherever he was...

_Harry_...who if Remus was right, was in the control of _Dumbledore_...someone he did _not_ want getting his hands on the Black fortune, or properties, when they were _meant_ to go to his _godson_. A last effort, the last of his willpower, and he made Remus the sole beneficiary of his Will. That done, sanity and rationality crumbled and fled.

With a soft 'pop' Sirius lost his hold on his animagus form, and the large, shivering dog, became a huddled and shivering human. His nightmarish thoughts intensified, and the last thing he saw, through unseeing eyes, was not the ghoulish features of a dementor, but the accusing countenances of his closest friends...

* * *

Remus wasn't sure how or when he finally made his way back to Hogwarts, but he clearly hadn't made it back in any sort of coherent shape, for he awoke to the sterile-white ceiling of the Hospital Wing, and hushed whispers. Well, he supposed they were _meant_ to be hushed whispers, but the enhancement of his hearing made it otherwise.

Sirius had been found...Kissed...

But he'd already known, really - that was why he'd been in such a state when he'd returned to the castle, because he'd _felt_ Sirius' soul vanish, _felt_ his mate die. He'd bypassed weeping and wailing completely, and though his wolf's influence had caused him to howl in sorrow and loss, his human influence had ensured that the howl was never vocalised. Now he lay, numb with the knowledge that Sirius was gone, forever...

How long had he lain, insensate with a grief that he refused to parade for others to see? He turned his head, trying to scan the Hospital Wing for other occupants without alerting anyone to the fact that he had woken. A soulless shell lay on a bed in the furthest corner from him, Albus Dumbledore and Minister Fudge talking quietly next to it - it was their conversation that had roused him. He ignored them all - whoever the shell had once been, it was no longer them, and he would not let foolish sentiments trap him within a web he might never escape. Grief was all well and good, but the dead - and the soulless - could neither be consulted nor brought back to life, once you had grieved you owed it to them to continue with your own life.

Remus looked to his other side, where, a couple of bed over, the sleeping form of Severus Snape lay. He could vaguely smell old blood, and over the almost overpowering stench of disinfectant in the room, that meant the wounds, and blood loss, had been severe indeed. But he was almost recovered now...no...he looked at the waxen pallor of the Potions Master's skin again. He wasn't in critical condition any longer, his wounds staunched and probably partially healed, but then he'd been in Poppy's capable hands. Maybe a day, maybe a little less, Remus estimated, not long, not long at all. Just long enough for search parties to have located what used to have been Sirius.

"...Remus Lupin awakes he can tell us what happened." The words of Albus Dumbledore drifted across the Hospital Wing to Remus' ears, and he stilled, listening intently. "Well, at least we have one less worry in the world, eh Cornelius?" Remus suppressed his growl of displeasure, suspecting they were probably looking in his direction.

"Indeed Albus, indeed. If you'd be so good as to let me know when Mr Lupin awakes - duty calls as ever." Cornelius Fudge gave a nervous laugh, and then Remus heard his footsteps fading into the distance as he left. His skin prickled suddenly, every sense - both human and lupine - screaming that a dangerous predator was watching him intently. Relief flooded over him as the gaze moved away again.

"Well...at least that's one obstacle permanently out of my way." The mutter was faint, even to Remus' enhanced hearing, and he wondered if Dumbledore even realised he was speaking his thoughts aloud. "No doubt Sirius Willed everything to Harry, which means my plans to use Grimmauld Place won't be compromised in the slightest." His smirk was almost audible. "Lupin," the werewolf in question felt himself under the scrutiny of those predator's eyes once more, "well, he's almost as harmless as Snape, if not _quite_ as compliant. Still, I'm sure he'll be _most_ malleable in the face of his mate's death." Lupin fumed quietly, suppressing his growl of anger. How _dare_ the Headmaster attempt to use his grief against him! But he knew, had he not merged with his wolf, that he _would_ have been grief-stricken enough at Sirius' death - although to a lesser degree, since he _had_ thought him a traitor - for the Headmaster to have manipulated him into almost anything.

He couldn't stay in Hogwarts now, however, not now he'd merged with Moony. The Headmaster would realise all too quickly what had changed, and he would _not_ want him around the students and staff; a counter influence to the doctrines that it suited him they should learn. Doctrines such as the prejudices against 'dark' creatures such as himself. Prejudices that had made him a much weaker person than he should have been. Prejudices that were slowly, but inexorably, tearing their world apart at the seams.

* * *

Remus Lupin didn't awake until the day after Sirius Black's corpse had been found, much to Albus Dumbledore's surprise. He'd expected the werewolf to awaken sooner, even having just lost his mate, but then again, it was possible - and even likely - that he'd exacerbated his poison-induced exhaustion by chasing after Black. Albus wondered what effect informing Lupin that _he'd_ killed his mate - albeit indirectly - by driving him into a mass of dementors, would have. Maybe, if he felt the werewolf wasn't quite grief-stricken enough, he could use that titbit of information to tip the balance and more easily manipulate him. Yes, that sounded reasonable. It would be useful if he could retain a decent DADA teacher whom he could control with ease - and how much easier did it get than 'do as I say or die'? Most useful indeed.

The werewolf issue decided, Albus turned his thoughts to his plans for the Order of the Phoenix and their soon-to-be base of operations, Grimmauld Place. Few people knew the protections on the Black family manor were even stronger than the Hogwarts Wards, and once it was placed under the protection of the fidelus charm it would be nigh on impenetrable. It would make the perfect place from which to run his little army, and the atmosphere of the house itself would be most conducive to occupying the thoughts of anyone living or meeting there, rather than letting them concentrate on the intentions and motivations of anyone else - specifically him.

Whilst he didn't believe the Order was needed to mobilise _just_ yet, he was under no illusions that it _would_ be needed sometime in the near future. Voldemort had by no means been completely defeated twelve years ago, just discorporated and severely weakened. He _would_ be back, and _soon_. Not quite soon enough for Dumbledore to be overly worried about his lack of a 'saviour', however. Even if Voldemort managed to resurrect himself tomorrow, he would need time to summon his Death Eaters and gather information from his spies - only then could he even begin to think of implementing any plans. No, Voldemort would easily take a year to move into a position where he was once more a threat, and in that time Miss Granger's training would be completed. She was only a distraction, after all, someone to occupy Voldemort's attention whilst the _real_ power, himself, engineered the time and place of Voldemort's final, and complete, defeat.

"Come in Remus!" He called, pre-empting the knock on the door. Placing a sympathetic expression on his face, Albus watched as the door slowly opened and the werewolf stepped into his office. Albus carefully scrutinised Remus as he closed the door behind himself; the werewolf looked haggard, dark bags under his eyes making it look as if he hadn't slept in weeks. Grief had shadowed his eyes, and his shoulders were bowed under its weight...no extra push would be needed here, the werewolf was already lost to his sorrow, ripe for manipulating.

"Headmaster...I...I..." He stammered, seemingly at a loss for words. "I...I can't stay here and teach next year, I...I just _can't_." Almost throwing a rolled and sealed parchment onto his desk, Remus turned and fled, not once having quite managed to meet his eyes. Well...he hadn't expected _that_, although he supposed he really should have done. The school that they had both attended no doubt held memories at every turn, memories that, right now, Remus would want nothing more than to escape. Well... No, he didn't need to worry just yet. Remus would undoubtedly remain until at least the very end of the school year, until all the students had left. He was a rational man; it would not surprise Albus if, by then, Remus was ready to listen to the reasons that he should remain to teach again next year, after all, it wasn't as though the werewolf had to remain within the school during holidays.

Yes, he would wait, patient and enduring, not hasty and too quick to act. A knee-jerk reaction sometimes saved the day, but in this case, in any case involving the very delicate emotions of another person, it would be best to bide his time. Besides, Sirius' Will would, or should be arriving with the next day's post, which meant ever-tedious legal details to wade through. If Remus could be left until after he'd sorted through that mess, then it would be extremely convenient.

He never even contemplated the repercussions of Sirius' Will _not_ leaving everything to Harry - and thus to him.

* * *

Poppy Pomphrey had noticed the difference almost immediately, and even if she hadn't realised through her diagnosis, she would have noticed by the change in his attitude. Remus Lupin had _finally_ accepted his wolf. Healers were always trained in the signs to watch for in 'rogue' werewolves, simply so that they could immediately report them to the ministry. But Poppy knew what happened to werewolves who were reported, and as far as she was concerned, 'first do no harm' and 'patient confidentiality' _included_ the information on whether a werewolf had merged and the fact that if they had, and were reported, the ministry quietly saw to it that they were 'neutralised'.

Remus Lupin had finally accepted his wolf, and good luck to him, because it might just give him the edge over Dumbledore that he would need to stay out of the old man's insane schemes. Unlike Severus, once more under her care, who was no doubt suffering thanks to his suicidal decision to...well, she didn't know _what_ he was doing, but she was certain that it boded no good for Albus in the long run. The wounds he had arrived with had nearly proven fatal - a few more minutes and he would have been beyond the aid of blood-replenishing potions - but they had all been precisely made. Perhaps they indicated torture - which was exactly what she intended to hint to Albus - but she thought not, since she'd noticed that the timing of his disappearance had come too close to Narcissa's due time - as far as she could calculate that - for it to be a coincidence.

Still, he was healing nicely now, or would be until she allowed him to wake and begin protesting his confinement. Maybe she would just keep him in the healing sleep until _she_ felt he was rested...Dumbledore was no healer to argue her judgement. She smirked to herself. Dumbledore could wait until _she_ was certain that Severus was back to full strength - it was the least she could do for Lucius, _or_ Severus.

* * *

It was, to Remus' mind, an overly cheerful breakfast that next morning. The students were all flourishing due both to the fact that Sirius Black was no longer a threat, and the departure of the dementors, which had lifted the foreboding atmosphere that had lain over the school the whole year. Only the Slytherins were quiet, sombre, and that was because Professor Snape was still in the Hospital Wing, but no one cared for the house of the serpents, no one _except_ Severus.

He'd been surprised, the previous day, when Albus had accepted his letter of resignation without a murmur against it, but then again, he wouldn't be surprised to discover that the Headmaster had other plans for him. Thinking of whom, the Headmaster was looking rather distracted this morning, his gaze constantly flicking up to the windows where the owls entered with the morning post. What could he...no... Remus' face turned ashen, and he was glad that the teachers either side of him were either engrossed in their food or in conversation with other colleagues. If Sirius, as he had no doubts that he would, had left everything to Harry, and Harry was a pawn - or ward, whatever legal term it was dressed up in - of Dumbledore, then whatever Harry had, Dumbledore effectively had. Including the Black fortune and properties.

No wonder the Headmaster seemed almost on edge. Sirius was predictable - disturbingly so - but there was always that _slight_ chance of his Black heritage winning out. Oh, it was rare, but it had happened before - it was Sirius who had dragged James and Pettigrew into becoming animagi, _and_ who'd made sure it was kept a secret until they were ready to surprise him one full moon...

* * *

Draco Malfoy, and everyone else in the Great Hall, looked up and froze as a scream-like song echoed through the room. A black phoenix hovered in the centre of the Hall, looking regal and powerful as the wisps of black flame from its appearance slowly vanished. It shrieked again, demanding that everyone witness its presence. Draco - and all of the purebloods in the room - swallowed fearfully. A black phoenix appeared for one reason, and one reason only - to deliver the Will of a deceased Head of a pureblood family to their Heir, or their Heir's guardian if they weren't of age. That the phoenix had appeared at Hogwarts could only mean that either someone's parent - or parents - had died, or that one of the Professor's parent or parents had died...

With Severus Snape - his _blood_ father - in the Hospital Wing, and having seen the condition he was in when he had appeared in the Great Hall two days previous, Draco feared the worst. But still, he wasn't yet of age, which meant if it _was_ for him, then it should have gone to Lucius...

The black phoenix appeared to be finished with its showboating, and glided gracefully towards the Head Table. As he - and every other pureblood student - slumped in relief, Draco wondered at the ashen pallor Lupin's face had taken on, as well as the ill-concealed smugness on Dumbledore's face. His mind raced; the only pureblood whom he _knew_ to have died recently was Sirius Black, but why would he designate either Lupin _or_ Dumbledore as his Heirs?

The bird was heading almost directly towards Albus Dumbledore, but just as the Headmaster held out an arm for it to land upon, it swerved sideways, and instead came to rest on Remus Lupin's shoulder, shooting the Headmaster what Draco thought was a _very_ dirty look. Remus Lupin looked about ready to faint in shock, his eyes wide and his skin paler than should've been humanly possible. Unfortunately that seemed to be all the drama they were going to see, for Dumbledore abruptly stood and virtually dragged the still-dazed Lupin out of the Great Hall and out of sight. Draco was rather surprised to see, however, that Minerva McGonagall hesitated, and then also rose and followed after the two. Something very strange was going on, he would have to make sure he informed his father when he next saw him.

* * *

Curse Sirius Black! Dumbledore fumed, barely aware that he was, almost literally, dragging Remus Lupin behind him. Why had the man changed his Will? How had he found the sanity to do so? He growled the password to the statue, frowning as it seemed to move aside slower than it normally did, and hauled Lupin up into his office, slamming the door behind them with wandless magic. He didn't want this conversation interrupted, not until he knew quite what he was going to have to do with Lupin.

* * *

He who hesitates is lost, Minerva thought, examining the wall that, to her knowledge, should not have been where it was. Gingerly she pressed her fingers to its surface, finding it cold and slightly slimy, feeling a shiver of revulsion as malicious intent swept over her. She backed away hurriedly, not quite able to shake off the expectation that the wall - which remained firmly where it was - would follow her. Something was not right, not right at all, and yet she suspected that the reason, the cause, was the only person she might have been able to ask for the answer to the question of _what_ was not right.

Praying to all the Gods that Remus would be alright - had she _ever_ seen Albus so ruffled, so unstable, before? - Minerva headed slowly back to the Great Hall, and the chaos that had undoubtedly erupted there.

* * *

He had to retain his composure, his facade, Albus told himself sternly, suddenly grateful for the 'special' sherbet lemons that he normally only offered to visitors. Remus was still in a daze, but even so, he would have to play this situation _very_ carefully if he didn't want to lose his intended headquarters.

* * *

How had Sirius changed his Will? _When_? Remus' thoughts chased themselves in circles, and he was barely aware of his surroundings as Dumbledore pulled him from the Great Hall and up to his office. A warning trill from the black phoenix on his shoulder, however, brought him to his senses enough to realise that he had probably just upset a _lot_ of Albus' plans. Now, more than ever, he needed to be on his guard, for one wrong word here and he would undoubtedly die with no one the wiser. Fear snaked down his spine and he concentrated, praying that it was not just purebloods who could magically Will their possessions to their chosen 'heir'. If he _did_ make a mistake and pay the price, he would be damned if he would give Albus an easy time of it.

"Remus, my boy, do sit down before you fall down." Hoping his expression was still one of befuddled shock, Remus collapsed backwards into the chair that nudged him behind the knees. It was a rather comfy armchair, which suggested to him that the Headmaster intended to manipulate him into giving over whatever it was the old man wanted.

"I...why would he leave everything to _me_?" He asked plaintively, eyes brimming with crocodile tears. It was extremely fortunate, he thought, that werewolves were immune to the mind magics. The Headmaster shook his head, seemingly as baffled as him.

"I do not know, my boy - perhaps it was a last attempt at restitution, or perhaps something in his possessions is a trap." Aha, so it _was_ something in Sirius' possessions that Dumbledore wanted... Of course, Remus realised, the Black family mansion. From Sirius' stories of paranoid ancestors, he doubted there was a more protected site that the Headmaster could use for the Order of the Phoenix's base. It was a given that the Order would be recalled, even if it didn't happen immediately, just as it was a given that Voldemort _would_ return one day. The silence stretched, and Remus realised that Albus was undoubtedly awaiting his decision that anything of Sirius' would hold too many painful memories. He smirked inwardly, time to derail the old man's plans again.

"I...I don't know if I can live with so many reminders...but...there are _good_ memories too, amongst the bad...if Sirius felt so strongly about my being his heir, I cannot deny the last desire of someone I once called my mate." He didn't have to look at Albus to see the expression of pleasure abruptly switch to irritation.

"Are you quite sure, Remus? It may be simply a last, cruel deception on Sirius' part. Especially the Black family manor, you of all people should know quite how the presence of a 'half-blood', not to mention a werewolf, would be viewed there." Bingo, as the muggles said. Dumbledore _was_ after the Black manor. Now...how to bait the trap to manoeuvre the manipulator into offering exactly what _he_ wanted?

"I'm sure, Headmaster. I have nothing besides the Order and Harry to live for now...I suppose, if I were to investigate the manor and find nothing amiss - beyond what might be expected of the Black family manor - there would be ample defences for one or both of them to join me there..." He bowed his head and sighed suddenly. "I don't know Headmaster...maybe with the other Black siblings the house _is_ too dangerous to use."

"Nonsense my boy, I think it's an excellent idea." Remus hid his smirk, Albus was going to now tell him exactly why his idea was a good one, and then 'persuade' him to go ahead with it. "All we would need to do would be to place it under the fidelus charm...in fact, if you are so determined not to teach again next year, then I could make you the secret keeper. If you were to remain within Grimmauld Place itself, then the house would be perfectly protected." Remus looked up, allowing hope to show in his eyes.

"You think, you think I could do that, Headmaster? That I could still be useful?" The Headmaster was beaming - although some of his cheer might have been due to one too many cheering-charm laced sherbet lemons.

"Of course my boy, of course. Now, we can't do anything until the students have left for the summer, but there's nothing to stop us from sorting everything out as soon after that as possible, hmm?"

"Yes Sir." Remus nodded enthusiastically, careful not to jar the phoenix still sitting on his shoulder.

"You'll need to go to Gringotts as well, just to verify the Will - I think we can spare you for the day to do that." The smile Dumbledore graced him with was smugness embodied. "I'll no doubt see you at the evening meal my boy."

"Yes Headmaster." Remus acknowledged, recognising the dismissal for what it was. Pushing himself up from the comfy chair, again careful not to jar the phoenix, he quickly left the Headmaster's office before his own glee escaped him. Once upon a time, he knew, Albus Dumbledore wouldn't have fallen foul of such an amateur's attempt at manipulation. It was a measure of how far the Headmaster had fallen, was perhaps _still_ falling, that he had done so now. No matter, as long as he was able to continue his facade without suspicion, then as soon as Dumbledore made him the secret keeper of Grimmauld Place he would be too valuable, and difficult, to dispose of.

* * *

Despite the end-of-year chaos - which was starting to seem almost mandatory to both students and teachers alike - the last week passed without incident, and, on schedule, the students were given their exam results the day before they were due to leave. Most teachers also liked to give feedback with their results, especially in the case of students who hadn't taken OWLs or NEWTs, and Lupin, who technically hadn't ceased being a teacher until the students had all left the school, was no exception.

Draco had been slightly surprised however, when he'd dropped by the DADA classroom to collect his results and feedback, to notice that, no matter how well he was trying to hide it, he was _not_ as upset as he seemed to be. His bearing was also different, the way he looked around himself, even the way he moved when he retrieved the results and feedback from his folder, it was more certain, more confident.

Then again, he had to admit that he hadn't expected another message, concealed within his feedback sheet if he'd understood Lupin's words correctly. It galled slightly, admitting that a Gryffindor _was_ capable of cunning and deception. Certainly he seemed to have fooled the rest of the school into thinking Black's death had hit him harder than it really had...or perhaps more accurately, that it's impact was hanging over him longer than it really had.

No matter. Whatever was going on within the staff of Hogwarts, he was _quite_ certain that he wanted nothing to do with it. He'd already learned _far_ too much about Dumbledore's twisted games for his own peace of mind, and he was seriously considering insisting that he be sent to Durmstrang for the rest of his education. Then again, Durmstrang _was_ further from help than Hogwarts...

Wondering why on earth he'd ever _wanted_ to enter the murky world of secrets and politics that his parents lived in, Draco decided he would much rather simply turn his feedback - Lupin's message - over to his father and have done with it. Spelling the door to his compartment closed, the Malfoy heir sat back in his seat and settled down to doze for the remainder of the train journey.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore had wasted no time in acting, and not a full day after the students had left for the summer holidays, Remus Lupin had been made the secret keeper for Number 12, Grimmauld Place, the Black family Manor. That suited Remus perfectly, especially with Poppy Pomphrey having 'regretfully' informed the Headmaster that Severus Snape was unlikely to be in any condition to brew any potions before the next full moon. The Headmaster, of course, had given him another one of the doctored Wolfsbane potions - not that Remus intended to take it. No, he wanted to see whether having merged with his wolf would make a difference to his experience on the full moon...

That wasn't the only reason the Headmaster's expediency suited Remus however, since he had told Lucius that, if the blond wished, he would meet him in London with some rather...sensitive...information. He hadn't even suggested that this would be an exchange of information, because, truly, he could no longer see the point. The ministry was a farce, and Dumbledore's light was vanishing under the patina of corrupting madness, why should he not, as a dark creature who would face 'neutralisation' - death - if it was discovered he had merged with his wolf, support the Dark Lord? Even if, and the thought itself pained him, Harry had been moulded into Dumbledore's 'weapon', he could not go against what he knew to be _wrong_.

The offer of information, no strings attached, was the reason he was sitting in the Leaky Cauldron, nursing his third drink of the day, and looking up sharply each time someone entered via either door. Finally, just as he was about to give up, for the sake of his nerves - he still wasn't used to this whole 'espionage' deal - a familiar blond man stalked regally into the inn, through the muggle side of all places.

* * *

Lucius quickly spotted a rather nervous-looking Remus Lupin, cradling a mug of ale in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron. He was seated in a good place, able to see people coming in through both doors without having to crane too obviously, still, it was not private enough for Lucius tastes. A quick word with the bartender and they had the use of a room for five hours. An equally quick spell ensured that said bartender wouldn't be able to mention anything about the arrangement to anyone. Catching the werewolf's eye, Lucius stalked up the stairs to the private rooms, gratified when he had to wait several minutes before he was followed.

"I have the information you wanted on Harry Potter." Lucius announced bluntly, having placed several secrecy charms on the room as Remus closed the door behind himself. The werewolf looked surprised, which annoyed him slightly - hadn't he said he'd be looking into it as payment for all the other information he'd been given? - but quickly grabbed a chair and seated himself comfortably.

"I wasn't expecting you to get very far in that line of questioning, Lucius." Remus admitted, suddenly looking a lot more confident and sure of himself than Lucius had ever seen him. "But I won't turn it away if you have information you think will be of use to me." Lucius' eyes narrowed.

"I wasn't expecting you to truly have merged with your wolf, either, despite everything Draco noticed pointing to that conclusion." Remus' eyes narrowed in turn, then relaxed as he chuckled quietly.

"No, I expect you weren't. I wasn't either, truth be told, but that has nothing to do with the information I have." He smirked. "Now, shall I give you my information first, since I wasn't expecting any in return, or would you prefer to give me your information first?" Lucius considered him for a moment, calculating.

"I think you should give me your information first - I don't think you'll be in a mood for mild talking once I'm done with mine." Remus' eyes flared amber, no doubt suspecting what his information was, but that was his only reaction besides a slight nod of his head.

"Very well. Albus Dumbledore is losing the faith of his staff, Poppy Pomphrey is almost certainly neutral due to her Healer status, but I believe she may be leaning towards the dark in her ideals. McGonagall has also almost certainly moved away from her light ideals and blind faith in Dumbledore towards a more neutral stance." Lucius nodded, he'd already known about Poppy's leanings, but McGonagall's disillusionment was news - Severus would also be pleased to hear that he'd helped shock the Deputy Head into reality no doubt. "Rubeus Hagrid, and possibly also McGonagall, has been obliviated of anything but the 'common' knowledge of Harry Potter." Again, he hadn't known about Hagrid - not that he particularly cared - but he'd suspected about McGonagall. "Dumbledore seems to have been attempting to train a 'strike-force' of sorts, originally it looked like he was focusing on the three youngest Weasley sons and Hermione Granger, however..." There was a rather telling pause. "I believe he has abandoned the Weasleys and decided to concentrate on Granger - he...I gave her the Ab Insanus Ira potion on his orders." Now _that_ was news, and also a good indication of how far Dumbledore was prepared to go.

"Anything else?" The expression Remus fixed him with was distinctly predatory. Lucius suppressed the urge to react with difficulty.

"Sirius Black left all his possessions to me, including the Black family manor." Lucius winced, neither Narcissa nor Bellatrix were going to be happy about that. "Dumbledore has decided that it would make the perfect headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix..." Remus paused, and Lucius nodded to indicate that he knew what the Order was. "Since his 'grief-stricken pet werewolf'," the title was snarled with more than a little venom, "couldn't bear to teach next year, he has decided, in his infinite wisdom," again, the sarcasm was almost tangible, "to make me the secret keeper for the place." Lucius couldn't help it, he laughed.

"Need I ask whether you'll give us your aid when the time comes to topple the Order?" He asked, once he had regained his control. Remus' expression, previously a rather feral grin, blanked of all expression besides a slight suspicion in his eyes.

"I'm not your ally Lucius. If Dumbledore comes to his senses, or if I decide there is a better alternative out there, that is who I will side with. For the moment, that alternative does appear to be you...but things change in war, even in secret wars." Lucius nodded, the faintest of blushes colouring his cheeks at the reprimand. He'd allowed himself to get carried away at the latest news of Dumbledore's blundering, something he should have known better than to allow.

"Of course, my apologies for suggesting otherwise Remus." He inclined his head slightly. "As for my information... Nine years ago there was a massive search of Clipstone Forest, a search that those involved were told was for a foreign diplomat's child. Not only were there no foreign diplomats in the country at that time, but Albus Dumbledore was involved in the search. Needless to say, no child was ever found, and the search was called off with no further investigation. Harry Potter would have been around four years old at that time." Remus' frown indicated that the werewolf had yet to quite make the connection, but Lucius was sure the proverbial knut would drop soon. "As you have discovered, no one who _should_ know where Harry Potter is, actually _does_ know," comprehension was dawning, he could see it in the flickering eyes, "except for Severus." He paused briefly, wondering whether Lupin would interject a comment, but the werewolf seemed determined to wait for the whole story before he made any response. "Severus has been under an heavily modified Imperius curse, controlled by Albus Dumbledore, since the Dark Lord's first defeat, and it was he who was sent to investigate the wards around Harry Potter's home when they went alerted Dumbledore that his saviour was missing. Severus discovered that the Dursleys, _muggles_, had abandoned their ward in a forest - Clipstone Forest. Needless to say, when he failed to locate Harry Potter in the forest, Albus Dumbledore decided that the boy had perished and promptly decided to cut his losses."

"That _bastard_..." Remus growled, eyes a solid amber. Lucius was rather glad that the werewolf's rage _wasn't_ aimed at him.

"Wait." Lucius didn't think Remus had even realised that he'd risen from his seat and was halfway to the door. "Neither Severus nor myself believe that Dumbledore is correct." There was a long pause as Remus assimilated the comment.

"What? You think Harry was abandoned in a forest _notorious_ for people disappearing and never being seen again, at the age of four, that Dumbledore _himself_ failed to find him, and you _don't_ think he's dead?" His tone was incredulous.

"There are a lot of tales about Clipstone Forest, the vast majority of which are utter nonsense. Severus, however, has actually _met_ the Guardian of the Forest, and thus, if he believes Harry Potter may have survived and consequently _hidden_ from Dumbledore, I am inclined to believe him." There was a long pause, but Remus no longer looked quiet as murderous as he had done.

"It seems I have a lot to think about this summer." The werewolf muttered, striding the rest of the way to the door. "And Lucius, what I said earlier about my support...it's yours to command." With that he opened the door and was gone, leaving a rather shell-shocked Lucius Malfoy behind. Truly, it seemed this summer would be one for reflection and revelation...

* * *

AN: Once again, apologies for the _stupidly_ long 'chapter' (now I've said that I've probably split it into two), and consequently long wait in me posting it. Below are all my usual waffle on plot points, DIY magic-y things and, of course, Review responses. Now, a note on the review responses, I _am_ trying to be good and follow policy on not responding within fics (honest o.O), but until they have a system for responding to anonymous/not logged-in reviews, I'm afraid they'll get responses in-fic. That said, I may accidentally miss someone out in the reviews, since I kinda lost track of who I'd responded to, and who I hadn't, or I may respond twice, gomen.

Okay, just to clear up (because I _nearly_ ripped a plot hole the size of the UK... o.O), Dumbledore obliviated Fudge of the knowledge that Harry had gone missing right at the end of the search in Clipstone Forest. Hagrid opted of his own free will to be obliviated, probably around the same time, maybe a little later. Severus has always known because he couldn't tell anyone thanks to the modified Imperius curse, but Lucius, Narcissa and probably 'Diary-TMR' now know thanks to operation Puppet. Minerva knew up to the first Basilisk attack, but was obliviated of the knowledge around that time and then later was further obliviated of information relating to the Chamber of Secrets; the second obliviate helped seal the first, so that removing that block carries a risk of potentially fatal brain damage. Lupin realised Harry had never been to Hogwarts pretty quickly but trusted Albus to have kept Harry safe somewhere else, only learning the truth through the eventual conversation with Lucius. Sirius only learns the truth during the Shrieking Shack incident, shortly before being kissed. The secret that Harry was abandoned and is Missing, Presumed Dead(?) still holds...barely...   
It appears that most (probably all) of the 'old crowd' (members of the Order of the Phoenix) are aware that Voldemort was not taken out for good in 1981, as well as key figures such as the Minister and presumably the Head of the Law Enforcement departments.

Yes, I know the Marauder's Map wasn't created in canon until 6th year, however, if they could master the animagi transformation (in their spare time!) by 5th year, then I think, with research, the map would've been within their ability by 4th year.  
Only the 'Unholy Trinity' (and probably Diary-TMR) know the full extent of Dumbledore's involvement in the events of the previous year. McGonagall _was_ told that he was indirectly responsible for the petrifications, but she rationalised the further implications away, since at the time she'd only just had her eyes opened to the possibility that he's not the paragon of virtue she believed.  
As for why no one takes all this evidence and makes a move against Dumbledore, he simply has too much influence, power and money. Lucius Malfoy has nearly as much influence and money, however his standing has taken a blow after he was removed from the Hogwarts Board of Governors. Minerva has no direct evidence, and everyone else 'in the know' can easily be discredited or disposed of.

Now, my bible (the hp lexicon), has the invention of the Wolfsbane potion as 'not long before 1993'. As you may have guessed from the fact that Lupin in this is getting a black market source, I have the first Wolfsbane potion being invented maybe two or three years earlier, so around 1990. I think if it was invented as close to PoA as is suggested, then Snape would've been far more interested in monitoring Lupin after he'd taken it and possibly even when he transforms - why would Snape pass up an opportunity to laugh at a caged Lupin? Of course you could (and I do) argue that 2 or 3 years _is_ 'not long'.

Potions:  
**Ab Insanus Ira** - literally 'By Insane Rage', forces the drinker's magical core to advance in its maturity if they are not of age, or overrides their body's natural barriers to overloading their magical core if they are of age; in both cases the result is greater magical reserves coupled with a varying greater/lesser degree of sanity loss.  
**Cor Fretus** - 'On the strength of heart', from Latin, _Cor_ meaning 'heart', and _Fretus_ meaning 'on the strength of'. Temporarily boosts the drinker's magical ability by drawing on their life force, however will not allow more than a certain amount to be used; the _Vita_ Fretus potion (On the strength of life), on the other hand, draws directly from the drinker's life force and has no fail-safes to prevent too much being drawn & the user killed.  
**Commotio Fretus** - 'On the strength of emotion', from Latin, _Commotio_ meaning 'emotion', and _Fretus_ meaning 'on the strength of'. Boosts the drinker's magical ability by using their emotional state as an amplifier, side effects include mood swings and confusion.   
**Deus Spiritus** - 'God's breath', from Latin, _Deus_ meaning 'God', and _Spiritus_ meaning 'breath'. Increases the drinker's magical strength and sometimes grants divinatory abilities, side effects can include insanity, blindness and a loss of emotions.   
**Insania Fretus** - from Latin, _Insania_ meaning 'madness', and _Fretus_ meaning 'on the strength of'. Sends the drinker insane, but provides a massive increase in magical and physical strength.

Weaponry: Snape's Knives  
**Fekete Szin**: from Hungarian _Fekete Szin_ meaning 'black'.  
**Vilagos**: from Hungarian _Vilagos_ meaning 'white'.

Spells: Malfoy blood wards  
These commands aren't spells per se, they are 'command words' to help direct the actions of the wards, thus the exact result will vary depending on the intentions of the Malfoy commanding the wards.  
**Sanguis Amiculum** - 'Blood Cloak', from Latin '_Sanguis_' meaning 'blood', and '_Amiculum_' meaning 'cloak' - erects a blood ward similar to those surrounding the manor but localised around the person who invokes the wards or the target/s of their choice, intent determines those shielded and the reaction of the shield to magic/objects.  
**Retins** - 'Hold' or 'Restrain', from Latin '_Retinere_' meaning 'keep hold of' - restrains the target in a similar manner to the 'full body bind' spell, however the target will not fall even if off-balance, intent determines how gently/roughly the target is restrained and a particularly loathed target may be suffocated.  
**Sedere** - 'Sit', from Latin '_Sedere_' meaning 'be seated' - causes the target to assume a seated position, intent determines how gently/roughly the target is forced into position and the location the target is forced to assume their seated position.  
**Libera** - 'Free' or 'Release', from Latin '_Liberare_ meaning 'release' - counters the 'Retins' command word.

Spells:  
**Vomi** - 'Vomit', from Latin '_Vomere_' meaning 'vomit' - someone hit by this spell will promptly throw up the entire contents of their stomach, the spell is more efficient the closer it strikes to the location of the stomach.  
**Contra Commutatius** - 'Reverse Transformation', from Latin '_Contrarius_' meaning 'reverse', and '_Commutatio_' meaning 'transformation' - reverses the animagi transformation or human transfiguration, very painful when used for the former if the animagus does not wish to return to their human form.

Other (no doubt mangled) Latin:  
**Cave ab umbra** - 'Beware the shadows', from Latin '_Cavere_' meaning 'beware', and '_Umbra_' meaning 'shadow'. This is the note Dumbledore finds in Snape's hand (the portkey) just before the Shrieking Shack incident.

Hermione's Timetable: Now, I know the whole 'missing charms' is due to the time turner in the book, however I think Charms would be a class that Hermione would take. Divinations, on the other hand, I think would be something that she would see less practical use in, and would thus try (and likely fail) to learn from books in her spare time if she couldn't fit it into her timetable.

**Review responses!**

_Serpentine 03_  
_Fate_ : I'm glad you liked it, thanks for reviewing!  
_Cathrin Malfoy_ : Good to hear, thanks for the review :)  
_CrazyFangirl_ - Skippy : Yeah, there's a few around thanks to various challenges :) Hehe, I'm glad you liked it so much, I'm actually quite...encouraged by the fact I haven't had many flames, if any, about that fact... lol, I'm sure I'll get one sooner or later Thanks for the review!  
_rayama_ : Mwahaha, but it is...kind of... Serpentine goes together with Corvine, and there are also a few one-shots floating around that fit into and around both longer pieces. Thanks for the review :)   
_harryxdraco fanfic lover_ : Thank you, I wouldn't exactly call 'Corvine' a 'light' version though...from the wizarding world's perspective is probably a better description now... Corvine will go slightly over the end of where Serpentine finishes...but I won't be doing a sequel, heh, I wouldn't know what to do with it Thanks for your review :)  
_yukaishepards_ :D Thank you very much, and thank you for the review :)  
_Mousewolf_ : grins I do hope not, but if you are, well, I have first hand experience that it's not that bad ;) Thanks for the review :)  
_Nachtwoelfin_ : Glad to hear it :) Thanks for the review!

_Corvine 05_  
_Fate_ : Good, I aim to please :) Hope you enjoyed this chapter too - thanks for reviewing!  
_rayama_ : Aha, I see you found the companion piece Glad you're enjoying it, and thanks for the review :)  
_DDwelling_ : I do? checks muses handbook ah, nope, says here that since Serpentine is almost exclusively focussed on Harry, and since he additionally also gets sections throughout Mortifer, I don't have to do more than mention him until right near the end :p lol, thanks for the review :)   
_Ceris Malfoy_ : ehe...shifty expression I am continuing with it, it's just, um...looks around for excuse...Sirius! Sirius is being a pain! Eh, honestly now, I am working on it, on and off, there's a slight block at the minute to do with the fact that me and Sirius do not get along the vast majority of the time. I'm also quite busy at work and outside of work (I'm sneaking review response duties into work time ;;), but the next chapter is slowly shaping up...along with a couple of revelations that I wasn't expecting and am now wondering what the heck to do with... sighs my muses hate me. Anyway, I'd love to give an estimate of when the next chapter of Corvine will be up, but I know I'd probably miss it by miles; thanks for the review though, every little prod helps ;)  
_v v c_ : big grin flattery will get you everywhere, although I have to admit, I was quite impressed with my muses for what they did as well Thanks for the review!

_The Dark Side of the Light_  
_Fate_ : Thank you, and the confusion, well, that's all to the good, where would the mystique be if anyone could understand the dreams of seers? Hehe, thanks for the review!  
_Emmy_ : I am continuing Corvine, never fear, and there are other one shots also planned for the series ;) Who was locked up? Ginny Weasley - remember the incident with the diary? Well, that's all the hints I'm going to leave for working out what that might mean happened and potential future consequences ;p Thanks for the review!

_Mortifer_  
_rayama_ : And the one-shots too... I think I'll have to post a (rough) timeline of the Serpentine/Corvine universe lol. Thanks for the review!

_Special shout_  
_Fate_ : thanks for reviewing my other one-shots too, obviously they don't have subsequent chapters for me to thank you in, so hey, you get a special shout - feel special, feel loved :D


	8. It Begins

Category: Book  
Sub Category: Harry Potter

Series Title: Corvine

Title: Goblet of Fire

Genres: General - cause I can't think what else it would go under, really  
Language: English  
Author: Zephyr5

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Companion to 'Serpentine': Dumbledore's scheming has backfired in a big way - Harry Potter is Missing, Presumed Dead. Without a saviour, without a backup, and without a clue, the wizarding world is completely unaware of the repercussions of Dumbledore's meddling - but for how long?

Warnings: mention of male/male relationship later, dark!Harry, confused!Snape, Slytherin-like!Dumbledore, eventual character death. Oh, and everyone's probably horribly OOC…

Spoiler Warnings: none - this is AU through and through (obviously, since he gets abandoned before the books really get started)

Disclaimers: I do not own the canon Harry Potter characters who make an appearance, I do, however, own the idea of Nye, shadow vipers, and the plot...oh wait, my muses just laid claim to all those... Yeah, I own nothing, not even 'my' ideas...

AN: Well, it's begun...(yeah, I'm writing this as I start writing the chapter) Remus isn't likely to play a large part in this chapter, but don't worry, we've not seen the last of him by a long shot. Going to be a lot of 'puppetmaster' style shenanigans this year, so whilst Hermione _is_ actually the focus, she may seem not to get mentioned much lol! I had some wonderful reviews for the last chapter (and for corvine/serpentine as a whole), so I'm kinda scared that I won't manage to live up to expectations, but I guess I can only try and hope I manage o.O;; Argh...so much stuff going on 'in the background' that's quite important foreshadowing...yet can't be allowed to take over...has headache

AN2: Split this section off from the rest of the chapter, simply because it feels better that way for some reason. I agonised over whether to keep some parts in, and making this a 'fragment' chapter allows me to do that - appeasing muses is generally a good idea! The first AN, btw, is effectively the AN for all the chapters covering year 4 (Goblet of Fire). And now I'm off to start hacking into events of the actual school year and the tournament sighs no rest for the wicked...

**It Begins**

If it wouldn't have alerted anyone who knew him that something was off, Remus would have danced for joy. As it was, he was hard pressed to maintain the listless demeanour that matched the glamour he was hiding under. It was the day after the full moon, and instead of feeling like an abused, wet rag that had been put through he wringer one too many times, Remus felt, well, better than he'd felt for years if he was honest. Freedom... The concept somehow refused to settle neatly into his mind, threatening to give him a migrane as it forced him to reexamine everything he thought he'd known. Everything he'd once considered to be true, everything he had blindly believed and, consequently, loathed about himself, in one miraculous night he had found to be completely untrue.

There was, of course, only one reason for this change in his condition - and it wasn't a miraculous cure. That reason, merging with his wolf, was exactly why he had to go to such lengths to keep his happiness and energy hidden from those who might see it and reach the correct conclusions. If the Ministry discovered that he'd merged with his wolf, he would be a dead man...werewolf.

Remus had always known the reasons touted by the Ministry for not merging with one's inner wolf. They claimed that it would lead to a complete loss of human control, human rationality, that a merged werewolf would be a rabid _beast_ that would kill and maim and rampage without restraint. Then again, Remus had always 'known' that Albus Dumbledore was a good and kind man who would selflessly do everything in his power to rectify injustices - such as those displayed to werewolves.

The latter 'truths' - that Albus was not the shining paragon of light he had been led to believe - had come crumbling down over the past few months, so he supposed it was not so surprising that all the Ministry's lies had now also unravelled with the June full moon and the confirmation of his suspicions. It was not, he thought ruefully, as if he'd actually _intended_ to merge with his wolf. It had just sort of...happened. Not that the Ministry - or anyone else for that matter - would care about the circumstances under which the merge had occurred. No...they wouldn't care that both he and his wolf had shared a desire, a _need_ to know the truth, a need completely untainted by violence or bloodlust or any of the baser emotions they claimed were all the wolf could feel.

The truth of the matter was that the Ministry was _scared_ of the _real_ truth being unveilled for all to know. A werewolf, a _true_ werewolf, was one who had merged with their wolf, who had accepted both the human and lupine sides of their existance. It made sense, thinking about it, because left to their own devices, an out of control werewolf - one without the human consciousness to keep it sane and in check - would kill outright, not just wound or maim as was required to infect another human. Without true werewolves to have, at one point in history at least, spread the condition, the species would have died out long ago. Only true werewolves could breed, conflicting instincts and biology made it impossible otherwise. Needless to say, being _born_ a werewolf, without the taught prejudices of a more mature human-turned-werewolf, inevitably led to the child being a _true_ werewolf from the instance of its birth onwards.

Of course, the little fact of control - especially the full control over the change, full moons being the only time they _had_ to change, but not the only time they _could_ change, something he wanted to try when it was safe - wasn't the only reason the Ministry didn't want the truth known. Remus had found himself so much more confident in his bearing, physically stronger, faster, able to sense things with much more clarity. He'd been practicing hiding all those signs of course, his meeting with Lucius had proven that he was too obviously now a true werewolf. Still, Dumbledore had yet to quite realise the truth, probably because the old wizard _had_ only seen him in moments when he'd been genuinely emotionally off-balance. Whether that state of affairs would continue...well, perhaps the unwelcoming atmosphere of Grimmauld Place would serve to distract people from more than just speculating about the Headmaster's goals.

It hadn't taken long to figure out the Headmaster's 'plans' for Grimmauld Place. After all, it was natural that, being both a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and the new 'caretaker' for the place, Remus should be informed why it was that Dumbledore wished to do anything with the building at all. With any luck, Remus fervently hoped, he would be left alone for the vast majority of time, allowing him to gather what scraps of information he could, connect all the dots they made, and hopefully allow him to see what Dumbledore was attempting to do. It would be dangerous - although strangely enough the house almost seemed to accept him, if not outright _like_ him - and it would be tedious, but it would be worth it. Remus had both lost and gained things that were very precious to him, and he intended to see that those responsible paid in full...

* * *

Albus Dumbledore couldn't help feeling that he'd forgotten something. He wasn't sure what it was - obviously, since he'd forgotten it - but the feeling nagged at him disrupting his concentration and refusing to let him sleep soundly at night. It didn't help that he was certain someone was shadowing him, always watching from the shadows behind his back...but whenever he turned, they would vanish as if it had only been an illusion. He was convinced that it was a new trick of the Phantoms - revenge, possibly, for setting Alastor Moody on their trail. But that was good if it was, because it meant Moody had been successful, or at least, had kept their attention away from where they'd wanted it to be.

It wasn't Snape that he'd forgotten, oh no, he'd never make the mistake of forgetting about his poisonous little pet. Poppy Pomphrey had kept him in the Hospital Wing for far longer than necessary, he was certain, but she had finally been forced to release him. It didn't matter; Snape had little purpose left other than as the Hogwarts Potions Master. Even when Voldemort managed to regain a body - he could feel in his gut that it would be soon, _very_ soon - there was only the slimmest of chances that Snape would be accepted back into the fold. Still, it was on that slimmest of chances that Albus was willing to bet, especially since it wasn't _his_ life on the line. He had, however, taken the time to renew and modify the leash on the Potions Master, altering it to draw more magic the further away Snape was. If the Potions Master _did_ end up spying, then he couldn't be allowed the chance to break through a leash weakened by distance, as Albus suspected he had when he was kidnapped.

It wasn't Remus and the plans for Grimmauld Place that he'd forgotten either, still sore over Sirius Black's last, great prank. No, Remus, still quietly grieving, was busy attempting to make the manor livable once more - not, Albus thought, that he had gotten very far the last time he'd checked. Snape was providing the werewolf with the Wolfsbane potion once more, although without the weakening agents this time, which had made a vast improvement to Remus' condition. Of course, the poison was still there, since without it the werewolf would die, and with each dose it was more and more certain that Remus could not live without his help.

Hermione Granger was living up to his expectations, at least from what he'd seen of her before the end of the school year. This year would prove whether she was worthy to stand as the new 'saviour' of the Wizarding world. With the help of Moody she would be the 'surprise', under-age participant of the Tri-Wizard Tournament; the champion for a school that didn't exist.

So _what_ had he forgotten?

The answer continued to elude him, and Albus Dumbledore sighed in frustration. Whatever it was, he would just have to deal with it when he finally remembered...

* * *

Harry Potter had not been at Hogwarts the previous year...or the two years before that, and she didn't know why, which, in her position as Deputy Headmistress, troubled her. In fact, the more Minerva thought about it, the more she realised that she didn't know things about him that she knew she _should_ have done, especially considering her position as Dumbledore's second, both in the school and the Order.

She remembered Lily and James making the decision to go under the fidelus charm, with Sirius Black as their secret keeper. She remembered, not a week after that decision had been made, Albus firecalling her with an unusually serious look on his face, and informing her that the alarms on the Potter's house at Godrics Hollow had gone off. After that it was a bit of a blur, but she remembered Albus insisting that the newly orphaned Harry be placed in the care of his mother's sister - a muggle family - for the anonymity and blood protection it would afford. She remembered watching the family for a day, disdaining the celebrations that ignored the price paid in blood for them, and concluding that they were the worst kind of muggles; Harry Potter should not be placed with them. She remembered Albus, cheerfully overriding her concerns, and after that...nothing.

She couldn't remember anyone mentioning that they had passed by to check up on the young saviour of the wizarding world, nor could she remember anyone really mentioning Harry and his welbeing _at all_ as the years had passed. He certainly hadn't begun attending Hogwarts when he should have done - a fact that should have raised her suspicions _then_, not now, several years after the fact... Had she ignored his absence? No...she couldn't believe that of herself, yet there was nothing to suggest otherwise...except...

Minerva McGonagall frowned as her thoughts put several facts together and hypothesised a sequence of events that seemed to fit them. The only reason she wouldn't have made a fuss about the absence of a student - any student who was expected to attend and didn't - would have been if, at the time, she knew _why_ they were absent. Since the student in question was Harry Potter, she would certainly have spoken to Albus about the matter. Albus Dumbledore...who she knew for a fact had obliviated her - without her permission - in the past. She began to wonder again, just how important the information behind the second obliviate barrier in her mind, the barrier Poppy had said she couldn't remove without considerable risk, was. Was it important enough to risk her mind? Minerva had a terrible feeling that, with time, it might just become that important, might, possibly, already _be_ that important... It was, she decided, time for her to speak with Poppy Pomphrey again.

* * *

He was losing his mind, Hagrid was quite certain of it. Why else would he have baked a cake, gone to the trouble of icing it, even written 'Happy Birthday'...and then suddenly realised that he didn't know _whose_ birthday it was. It had to be a close friend - he didn't go to the effort of baking for anyone else - but he couldn't think of anyone he knew who had a birthday tomorrow.

Sighing, the half-giant dismissed the owl he seemed to have summoned in advance - who glared indignantly at him before it flew off empty-clawed - and put away the cheery wrapping paper lying on the side. Well, if he couldn't remember who it was for, he might as well eat it himself. No sense letting it go to waste after all.

The tide of change rolled on.

* * *

"It will be done _exactly_ as I have said." He snapped, finally losing what little patience had remained. Wormtail's loyalty - even though it was inspired by cowardice and a severe lack of other options - meant that he was granted a certain leniency in his behaviour, however, that did not mean that he would be permitted to question his orders so stubbornly. Or at least, not for long. Wormtail grovelled, perhaps sensing that he was pushing his luck, simpering apologies and assurances that would mean nothing the instant he sensed a better opportunity.

"Forgive me, but...I do not understand...why must we use the winner of the Tri-Wizard Tournament? Why not another witch or wizard? It pains me to see you so weak, my Lord..." Voldemort's eyes narrowed.

"I could use another, that is true..." Did Wormtail truly think that he had not thought this through? If it hadn't been beneath his dignity, Voldemort thought he might have screamed in frustration. A Slytherin would _never_ need to be spoon-fed the pieces of the puzzle and guided through the steps of placing all the pieces together correctly... Yet none of his Slytherins had been the one to find him. Fate, with its ingrained sense of irony, had deemed it necessary for his discovery and recovery to fall to his most cowardly follower. However, it had not been entirely unkind, for Wormtail had brought with him Bertha Jorkins, and crucial information.

"Exactly, my Lord! If you allowed me to leave you for a short while - you know I can disguise myself most effectively - I could find someone suitable in as little as two days..." It was such a blatant attempt at slytherin trickery that Voldemort nearly gagged. Honestly, Gryffindors! But as much as it sickened him to have to pander to the man's ego, he _was_ currently dependent on him, and thus forced to walk the fine line between casual flattery, and casual cruelty.

"You are volunteering to find a substitute?" Had Wormtail nodded any harder, Voldemort thought his head might have nodded right off his shoulders. "I wonder...perhaps you are tired of nursing me, Wormtail? Do you suggest abandoning the plan so that you may abandon me?" Instantly Wormtail looked up, eyes wide and frightened.

"My Lord! I...I have no wish to leave you, none at all..."

"Do not lie to me!" Voldemort snarled, catching the lie easily in the unguarded thoughts of the man before him. "I can _always_ tell, Wormtail! You are regretting that you ever returned to me. I revolt you. You flinch when you look at me, shudder when you touch me..." Wormtail cringed with each accusation, curling in on himself, but refusing to back down in his protestations of loyalty, lest he seem to be agreeing to the unspoken accusation of betrayal.

"No! My devotion to your Lordship..." He fell silent at a hiss from Voldemort. There was a pause in which the only sound was of Wormtail's rough breaths and the crackling of the fire.

"How am I to survive without you, when I need feeding every few hours? Who is to milk Nagini?" Wormtail's expression relaxed somewhat as Voldemort appealed to the side of him that thrived on being needed, being relied upon; the side of him that had been neglected by his friends and seen him turn to Voldemort in the first place.

"But you seem so much stronger, my Lord..." He ventured.

"Liar." Voldemort snapped, tone contemptuous, but also suggesting that it was a reflexive denial of his own weakness. "I have my reasons for using the Tri-Wizard Champion, as I have already explained to you, and I will use no other." He said, changing the subject by returning to the original question. "The plan will be effective. All that is needed is a little courage from you, Wormtail - courage you _will_ find, unless you wish to feel the full extent of Lord Voldemort's wrath..."

"My Lord, I must speak!" Wormtail dared to interrupt, his words running together in his fear and haste to speak. "My Lord, Bertha Jorkins's disappearance will not go unnoticed for long, and if we proceed, if I curse..." He fell silent again, whimpering slightly at the displeasure evident in his Lord's eyes.

"If?" Voldemort hissed. "_If?_" Wormtail whimpered in terror. "_If_ you follow the plan, Wormtail, the Ministry need never know that anyone else has disappeared. You will do it quietly, and without fuss; I only wish that I could do it myself, but in my present condition..." Voldemort trailed off into contemplative silence. Wormtail, who had been holding his breath in expectation of punishment, let out a quietly relieved sigh. "I am not asking you to do this all alone." Voldemort quietly reminded him, in a tone that suggested Wormtail was being highly ungrateful. "You will clear the way for my _faithful_ servant to rejoin me, that is the only even _remotely_ dangerous task that I have asked of you."

"_I_ am a faithful servant." Wormtail muttered. Voldemort arched an eyebrow - or would have done if he'd had eyebrows, as it was, the skin rippled and moved in a disconcerting way.

"Wormtail, I need somebody with brains, somebody whose loyalty has never wavered. You, unfortunately, fulfil neither requirement." It was true, Voldemort mused. You couldn't _get_ two people more opposite in nature than Peter Pettigrew and Bartemius Crouch Junior. Well, perhaps if Barty had been a Slytherin rather than a Ravenclaw, but still, better a Ravenclaw than a Hufflepuff, even if the loyalty he'd shown bordered - and perhaps, since his stay in Azkaban, now crossed that border into - fanatacism.

"I found you." Wormtail pointed out, still sulking. "I was the one who found you - I brought you Bertha Jorkins." Voldemort gave a thin smile of agreement that did nothing to reassure.

"That is true. A stroke of brilliance I would never have expected from you, Wormtail, though, truth be told, you were unaware of _how_ useful she would be, were you not?" A shifty expression flickered across Wormtail's face, and Voldemort stifled a sigh of irritation.

"I...I thought she might be useful, my Lord..."

"Liar." Voldemort announced mildly to the room; when would Wormtail _finally_ understand that he simply didn't have the ability to lie convincingly? Not to anyone with an ounce of talent in legilimency anyways. "However, I do not deny that her information was invaluable. Without it, I could never have formed our plan, and for that, you will have your reward, Wormtail." Wormtail's expression lit up with delight, then, as if recalling _who_ was promising him a reward, collapsed in on itself into a more wary guise.

"R...Really, my Lord? W...what...?"

"Ah, Wormtail," Voldemort mocked, smirking at his follower, "you don't want me to spoil the surprise do you? Your part will come at the end of it all, an essential task that any of my followers would give their right hands to perform. I promise you, you will be just as useful as Bertha Jorkins..." Wormtail's eyes opened wide once more, terror etched deeply into his features.

"Y...you...you're going to...kill me...too?" This time Voldemort couldn't help but roll his eyes. Only a _Gryffindor_ would fail to realise that he wouldn't have many followers left - loyal or otherwise - if his idea of a 'reward' was to kill someone.

"No, Wormtail, I'm not going to kill you." At least, not until you cease being useful, Voldemort silently added. "I killed Bertha because I had to, not least because she had seen _you_, a supposedly _dead_ wizard." There, Voldemort thought to himself, watching Wormtail's thoughts flicker across his face, now it was _Wormtail's_ fault that the witch was dead, never mind the fact that she'd been as good as dead after questioning anyway.

"We could have...modified her memory..." Voldemort tipped his head slightly to one side and looked consideringly at his cowering follower.

"Modified her memory? Memory Charms can be broken, as I showed when I questioned her." Defeated, Wormtail's shoulders slumped. "One more curse, my faithful servant at Hogwarts... It is decided. There will be no more argument." Wormtail nodded in resignation. "Where is Nagini?"

"I...I think she went to explore the house..."

"Hush! I think I hear her returning..."

**Nagini, my faithful one, what news do you bring me?** The long dark form of Nagini, his faithful King Cobra familiar, slithered into sight from the shadows of the doorway. He was vaguely aware of Wormtail discretely attempting to put more space between himself and the natural predator of his animagus form, but his main focus was on the serpent, and keeping his speech and hearing attuned to parseltongue.

**This place has good hunting and plentiful resting places...and there is an old muggle male listening at the door.** He could hardly scold Nagini for not thinking to place the muggle at the top of her priorities, but it was certainly unwelcome news. When he had purchased his relatives old home, and had made arrangements for its upkeep, he had never intended to return, never intended to chance running across the last person who could link him to his parents and grandparents by sight. He'd never really thought about it after that, but after all this time he had assumed that the old muggle gardener had died. Something, now, some strange, almost foreboding sense, told him that the gardener was not dead...not yet at least.

"Nagini has interesting news, Wormtail." Well, what was another death on the tattered remnants of his conscience? It would finally and truly sever his ties to the past, to the family he refused to acknowledge, and, after all, it was only a _muggle_.

"In...indeed, my Lord?" Wormtail stammered, frozen awkwardly mid-shuffle. His gaze was riveted on Nagini, who had curled herself up on the rug in front of the fireplace.

"Indeed, yes. According to Nagini, there is an old muggle standing right outside this room, listening to every word we say." Wormtail, a true coward in the sense that he could not resist lording it over those with less power than him - a trait Voldemort, who could still remember how he had been bullied in his childhood, found less than endearing - leapt to the door and pulled it open, leering at the shocked muggle standing there. "Invite him inside, Wormtail. Where are your manners?" Voldemort chastised him. Wormtail moved aside and bowed mockingly, gesturing for the muggle to enter.

Frank Bryce, the old gardener of the Riddle House - as the locals still called it - stepped into the room with a sinking feeling. The fire, the light of which he'd seen from his cottage, and had lured him here, had been lit in the grate, a fact that seemed obvious now, unlike before, when he'd assumed the local kids had resorted to arson. There was a tall armchair facing the fire, its back towards him so that its occupant was hidden, but the narrowness of the seat meant that the snake curled on the rug was partially visible. As though sensing his gaze on it, the snake raised its head and hissed warningly at him.

"You heard everything, muggle?" Frank Bryce had fought in the army in the second world war and whilst it had given him little, besides the ache in his knee that never failed to warn him when frost was coming, he had looked into the abyss during that war, as had most of its veterans, and you couldn't do that without coming away changed. Simply put, Frank Bryce had no fear of death. Of course, he also had no idea of whom he was talking to, and what they had done - although even if he had, having fought against Hitler, and not comprehending the idea of magic, he would most likely have reacted in the same way - so he did what few dared to do. He asked a question that, by its tone, demanded an answer; and not just an answer, an _explaination_.

"What's that you're calling me?" Voldemort smiled his thin-lipped smile again, humourless and unseen. It was too rare that people challenged him, albeit with good reason, but still, Voldemort had no objections to questions that were not inane and with obvious answers. Neither would he stand for challenges to his authority from his followers, except from his prized Unholy Trinity...

"I am calling you a _muggle_. It means that you are not a wizard." There was a pause as Frank Bryce put this new information together with what he had overheard, and came up with nothing. He had already decided that they had been speaking in code, and telling him a 'muggle' was not a 'wizard' might simply be telling him that he was a 'civilian' not a 'spy' - no use whatsoever.

"I don't know what you mean by wizard." He pointed out gruffly, but not bothering to demand they reveal the key to their code. Whilst all he knew was 'coded', he might still be unthreatening enough to let live. "All I know is I've heard enough to interest the police tonight, I have. You've done murder, and you're planning more!" Frank hurriedly snapped his jaw shut, nearly catching his runaway tongue - it would, he thought sourly, have served it right. "And I'll tell you this, too," he hurriedly added, seeking to save himself from the pit he'd just dug. Honestly, _threatening_ people he'd already established as cold-blooded murderers, when he had but a flashlight and a wooden walking stick? _What_ was he thinking? "My wife knows I'm up here, and if I don't come back..."

"You have no wife." The man in the chair coldly cut across him. Frank gulped quietly. His CO always used to say that one day his sense of justice would get him killed. "Nobody knows you are here since you told nobody you were coming." He wondered, vaguely, how they had known all that - or were they, like him, bluffing? He sensed that it didn't really matter; they were clearly only here temporarily, and they wouldn't baulk at his death. All they had to do after that was wait, and they would find that he _had_ been bluffing.

"Don't lie to Lord Voldemort, muggle." The other man, the one who'd ushered him mockingly into the room, and who strangely made Frank think of rats, sniggered. "He knows...he _always_ knows..." He was in for a penny, Frank thought despairingly, he might as well go for the pound, and at least take the image of his murderers to Saint Peter so they'd know to bar them at the Pearly Gates.

"Is that right? Lord, is it? Well, I don't think much of your manners, _my Lord_. Turn round and face me like a man, why don't you?"

"But I am not a _man_, muggle." Voldemort responded quietly. He hadn't been a man for a long time now, and most likely would never _truly_ be a man again. "However...why not? I will face you...Wormtail, come turn my chair around." Wormtail, clearly not wanting to get closer to Nagini once again, shifted reluctantly where he stood. "You heard me, Wormtail." Voldemort warned coldly - _this_ was the sort of disobedience he would not tolerate from those who had sworn absolute loyalty to him.

Frank Bryce watched as the rat-man, Wormtail - and wasn't _that_ a fitting code name? - awkwardly turned the chair, flinching as it caught the rug and caused the snake to hiss aggressively at him. Then his gaze switched back to the chair, and the..._thing_ that lay upon its seat. He screamed, or would have done, but absolute fear had paralyzed his vocal chords.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" The old man fell silently to the ground in a flash of vivid green light, his expression one of horror and sheer terror - much as his father and grandparent's expressions had been fifty years earlier. Voldemort could feel the magic tingling in his veins, the dark magic, the darkest there was before it became Dark, having a similar effect as Dark magic on his weakened - and temporary - form.

The golem that Voldemort was currently possessing wasn't, he had to admit, ideal. Made of clay and mucus, strengthened with the flesh of various reptiles, semen, unicorn blood, and a woman's menstrual fluids, the spells that held it together were only as strong as Wormtail had been capable of making them. Needless to say, Voldemort suspected that it was only the innate magic of Nagini's venom - infusions of which he was drinking with distressing frequency - that had kept it from falling apart thus far. But as long as it held together long enough for his plans to come to fruition, then he would be able to negate Wormtails magical inadequacies and shape the golem into something far more suitable.

There was much to do before the plan could really go into action, however, things that Voldemort intended to do whilst all eyes were on the Quidditch World Cup. His followers, as he had expected - and in some cases instructed, just on the off-chance that he became...indisposed - had immediately looked to saving their own skins, with greater or lesser degrees of success, and so he was assured that he would not be alone for long. His first port of call would be the Malfoys, for Lucius had always made it his business to know everything that was going on, and would also know via Severus what was happening at Hogwarts. After that, well, the plan would be adapted as circumstances required, and then it would go into action, culminating in the return, the _rebirth_ of Lord Voldemort.

* * *

August 25th 1994 - the Quidditch World Cup. Long anticipated by witches and wizards worldwide, it was a spectacle that would never be forgotten, if not for all the right reasons. The match itself passed without incident, but with a whole week dedicated to the event, and smaller, 'feature' matches to take place on the following days, the temporary encampment was filled with people when the attack came.

Death Eaters.

Not many, maybe less than a dozen, but the shock of their appearance, and the sheer terror wrought by their very presence, was enough to cause panic. People, it has been said, have far higher IQs as individuals than when measured as a mob, and as the wave of fear spread out from the Death Eaters location, any thoughts of sensible or intelligent reaction were lost. People ran, not in any particular direction, but just needing to run, to feel that they were putting distance between themselves and danger - even when, in some cases, the opposite proved to be true.

Fires started as screaming witches and wizards knocked over braziers and literally ran _through_ campfires. The Death Eaters, resplendent in their night-black robes and hats, their identities concealed by their grotesque, skeletal masks, barely needed to do anything except keep moving, never allowing the fear to die. In fact, it would later be determined, that _was_ all they did. No curses, no hexes, no jinxes, and above all, no Unforgivables. If not for the Morsmorde in the sky - the casting of which was penalised almost as heavily as the Unforgivables - the Ministry might have even passed it off as a practical joke gone too far.

Its significance, however, was far greater than anyone knew...

* * *

Alastor Moody was paranoid, as befitted an Auror who'd retired only after putting more than his fair share of Death Eaters behind bars in Azkaban. Of course, he'd been fairly paranoid before he'd retired, but it had manifested itself as a mistrustful cynicism that no one had really remarked upon in those dark days when your friend could become your enemy in a heartbeat, and the Aurors had been authorised to fight fire with fire – or rather, to fight Unforgivables with Unforgivables.

The scope of his paranoia, however, he'd found useful to have exaggerated over the years. It meant he could get away with gems such as hexing Ministry staff who 'crept up' on him without warning. It also meant he could get away with eccentricities such as charming his dustbins and plant pots – and other 'normal' house trappings – to repel 'intruders'. In reality, although the dustbins were good for a laugh when a cat unwisely wandered into the spell, Moody knew his defences were child's play to disable or circumvent, since they were restricted by Ministry regulations now that he'd retired and become just a 'civilian'.

His paranoia, he had found, had a second string to its defence of his person. Not only was he permitted to have a hair-trigger reflex for hexing people – the first string defence – but because people assumed the paranoia was in case the Death Eaters, or the Dark Lord himself, came after him, they assumed that he was a staunch supporter of the light…of Albus Dumbledore.

Moody knew differently, knew how close he had been to joining Voldemort's cause rather than fighting against it. So too did Albus Dumbledore. It had been a single massacre – he couldn't call it a battle, because it hadn't been a battle, no matter how skewed the odds, it had been a slaughter, pure and simple. The town had been Elbereth, a wizarding community only a little smaller than Hogsmeade, nestled between the muggle towns of Burtle and Edington, in the far South of England. Its population hadn't been large, maybe four or five hundred people in total, of whom maybe a hundred to two hundred could be 'ruled out' in a fight – either too old or too young to assist, however willing.

Elbereth had been slaughtered, to the last living person, by three Death Eaters acting on the Dark Lord's personal orders. They were called the 'Unholy Trinity', distinguished by their more elaborate masks, and whilst everyone had their suspicions as to who they had been, no one had ever known for certain. As a junior Auror, Moody had been part of the 'clean-up' operation at Elbereth, and he had vowed, there and then, that he would fight against the monsters who could cause such wanton destruction, no matter how 'noble' their cause.

Now he was facing a similar ethical dilemma with Albus Dumbledore.

Was it, Mad-Eye wondered, an inherent flaw with those who tried to wield power to improve the lot of the masses? If he himself – much as he knew he would not try in the first place – were to lead the Aurors in revolt and emplace a 'military' rule over the Ministry, would he still be called a ruthless tyrant even if he righted the wrongs of the world? Of course he would, he snorted. People were like sheep, easily 'persuaded' to follow someone else's lead, but they foolishly believed they could transfer their responsibility to that person at the same time. They thought that, years later, when their sins came home to roost, that they would be forgiven because 'someone else' told them to do it.

Alastor Moody was nothing if not honest with himself. He was going to go to hell – if such a thing existed. Still, he regretted nothing. He had never obeyed an order that he thought was 'wrong' – one of the reasons he'd never become the head of the Auror department – and whilst he may have done things that he regretted, he acknowledged that it had been his decision to do them.

Outside the dustbins rattled in the wind. Moody sighed, making no effort to get up and investigate. He still didn't move as the door to the room slammed shut and the flames of the fireplace flickered angrily in the breeze.

"Albus Dumbledore has forsaken his principles." Alastor muttered into the empty room. He knew there were no spying charms or anything else of the like – paranoia had its uses – to report his words back to the man he spoke of, and he had always found it helped him work through tangled thoughts to speak them aloud. "Just as Voldemort did with Elbereth." But had the cause of those betrayals been the same? "I will not trust a madman with the future of the Wizarding World." That was his own principle – or one of them at least. "I will not stand for the elimination of those who are merely 'different' to us." That was another of his principles, and another reason he had left the service of the Ministry, who were rapidly becoming anti-'dark' creature in their opinions. 'Dark creature' of course, being a term defined by the Ministry on what seemed like a day-to-day basis, depending on who – or what – had pissed them off the day before. "Dumbledore has too much leverage against me for me to act openly…" That – that was the crux of the matter.

Over the course of the years, just as he had assiduously and meticulously gathered pieces of 'dirty' information on those who could harm him, so too had Dumbledore gathered his own informational armoury. Dumbledore, however, had yet to tarnish his shining public image, which put Moody at a severe disadvantage. He suspected that was the only reason why Albus had never made a move against him. The Wizarding World had a saying after all – 'he who casts the first stone has something to hide'. If Moody cast the first aspersion, it would be easy for Dumbledore to pass it off as paranoia finally getting the better of him. But if Dumbledore, with nothing to fear from Moody, alleged something of him, then Moody could retaliate with his own information before he could be 'silenced'.

"Is a conclusion reached on false information still the correct answer?" Moody pondered the question for a long moment, listening to the hiss and crackle of the logs in the fireplace.

"Lives build themselves like card houses. Destroy a pillar in the foundation and you may well destabilise or destroy the entire house." He finally replied. There was a chuckle from the far side of the room.

"Most already consider you unstable, _Mad_-Eye, but I think you, like me, build your card houses with sticking charms." Alastor snorted, agreement or amusement – or both – it was impossible to tell.

"Then destroy the pillar Barty, and we shall see." He said gruffly.

"Elbereth was no mere Wizarding hamlet, though it was easy enough to mistake for one. All those of an age to fight were soldiers, loyal only to Dumbledore." Alastor nodded genially, not leaping into screaming denials as might have been expected. Not yet.

"And those too young or too old?"

"Retaliation." Barty replied succinctly. "For the Order's utter destruction of a werewolf enclave in the East of Scotland." He sounded decidedly bitter. "Do you know how many died there, _Mad-Eye_?" The Death Eater hissed angrily.

"I'm sure you're going to tell me." Alastor muttered wryly, recognising a rhetorical question when it was spat in his direction.

"_Four hundred and twenty_ adult werewolves, both magical and muggle, and _two hundred_ children." Moody closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before he opened them again. "Twenty witches and wizards also died, attempting to hold off the Aurors long enough for at least some of the werewolves living there to hide or flee." Twenty would not have been nearly enough, Moody knew, not if the Ministry had prepared for the attack in any way.

He'd planned attacks on werewolves before, although only as paper exercises, and never on such a scale. Still, small raid techniques could be scaled up with only a few minor changes – the basic points remained the same. The first was timing; just as werewolves _had_ to change on the full moon, even if they'd merged with their wolf, on the _new_ moon, they _couldn't _change. The second was coordination; the first thing anyone could know about the attack was when any floo connections had been cut and anti-portkey and anti-apparition barriers went up – at which point the physical perimeter also needed to be secure. The third, and final, was weaponry; silver weapons and werewolf-effective spells were essential, and the only things that should be being used, since anything that worked on a werewolf would work just as well on an uninfected person.

"And does your Master expect me to crawl to him in abject apology for enlightening me to the truth?" This time Barty snorted.

"Hardly. I don't doubt you want time to determine the _real_ truth –"

"No." Moody interrupted. "The pillar you wanted to destroy had already fallen."

"Then…" Barty trailed off, confusion in his voice, and Moody could imagine the frown on his face without having to see it.

"I already told you – I will not suffer a madman to lead us from uncertain to certain destruction. You cannot deny your Master's sanity was slipping towards the end – his obsession with the Potters was proof enough of that."

"The Dark Lord –"

"Enough!" Moody barked, causing Barty's mouth to shut so fast that his teeth audibly clicked together. Alastor smirked to himself. The ability that let him silence a room full of boisterous Aurors hadn't left him yet. "Your Master already knows that I will not be recruited to his coven. He did not _send_ you here with the intention of recruiting me." Quite why the Dark Lord _had_ sent Barty Crouch though, was beyond Moody's grasp at that precise moment. Obviously it was either going to be death or imprisonment, since he couldn't be permitted to wander around with the knowledge that Barty Crouch Junior was _not_ in Azkaban – where he was supposed to be.

"You're right." Barty admitted. "But this would have been easier had you been willing to cooperate." Moody saw the movement in the shadows only because of his enhanced magical eye, and had reacted almost without thought before Barty's wand managed to clear its holster, lunging out of the chair and rolling _towards_ the startled Death Eater.

Barty was not, however, as startled as Alastor had thought, and as he rose from the roll, he found his opponent far too close, and already driving a fist towards his face. There was nothing Moody could do – he was getting far too old and slow for this sort of roughhousing – and his last thought, before the fist met his face and he lost consciousness, was that he hadn't been paranoid enough.

* * *

AN: About the 'relationship' between the Black family home and Remus...well, let's just say that the magic in the place is sentient enough to pick up on the fact that he's a) a true werewolf now, and b) is out for revenge against the people who come in 'stinking of light magic' (maybe I'll do something from the house's POV about it ;D). No, the house isn't ecstatic to be in the control of a half-blood, half-breed...but it's a lot happier with him than it would have been with, say, Dumbledore. Speaking of whom, no, Albus doesn't realise that the 'stronger', more 'alert' Remus is due to his merging with his wolf; he thinks it's all down to the fact that Severus is no longer putting weakening agents in the Wolfsbane. He also doesn't know that Snape's ingrained instructions to poison the Wolfsbane have been removed by Lucius. Haha, yes, Albus 'forgot' to give the Weasleys permission to take the missing Harry to the Quidditch World Cup; it's a similar occurrence to Fudge 'forgetting' to go meet Harry at the Leaky Cauldron previously.

_Serpentine 03  
LandUnderWave:_ Heh, yeah, I guess the parseltongue factor was merely a tool for the second book, and aside from links with Voldemort ignored thereafter. Then again, I haven't read the last two books (bad me), so I suppose it could crop up again...  
You're welcome, and thanks for the review :)

_Mortifer  
LandUnderWave:_ Lol, you're probably right XD  
ZOMG...I can't believe it's been so long between your review and my (tardy) response O.O; so, er, Merry Christmas! And thanks for the review!

_Corvine 06/07  
Skull Bearer:_ Firstly, thankyou so very much for making my day, even my _week_ with this review appreciative glomp Now, the proper reply grins  
Heh, I'm glad someone thinks I can keep track of things, the number of times I suddenly stopped & went back to tweak something or add something in that I'd forgotten...shakes head But I've so very pleased that you think I managed to get everything (I've still got a nagging feeling I missed something)  
As for Dumbledore...well he seems to be quite happy wandering down this path of insanity; I suspect he's come out this way more because of my tendency to like _reasons_ for things, rather than any planning on my part lol, but yes, I quite like this dark/insane Dumbledore too...if only because the insane can reason their way into/out of almost any decision ;)  
Minor character reactions...hmm...I can't rule those out in the next 'book', however the focus will be more on a different set of characters for GoF. Pince will almost certainly get a mention, and now you've made me think about it, I think our resident squib caretaker's POV might have a few interesting titbits to reveal about everything.  
As far as speed of reactions go...well, some of that is to do with me attempting to ride herd on the amount of 'stuff' happening at any one time. For instance, if you plot out the canon happenings for PoA, there's a massive - and inexplicable - gap between Sirius' attempts to get Pettigrew (hence why he gets injured in Corvine). Gaps like that might be convenient, but they're just not realistic - if Sirius was that determined to get Pettigrew then he would keep going after him, again and again, until he succeeded or was caught and Kissed. McGonagall, as you say, is facing a true struggle to rationalise the Dumbledore she thought, and indeed once knew, with the twisted reality that he has become. I do see, if/when McGonagall splits completely from Dumbledore, the vast majority, if not all of the other teachers, following her lead, leaving Dumbledore alone and friendless.  
Trelawney...well, she does have another one-shot to come (counterpart to Dark Side of the Light), although I'm not sure when that will let itself be written; at the minute the muses are arguing over how much can be given away and not coming to an agreement. Suffice to say, I have no idea how involved Trelawney will be from here-on in, but quite possibly not very - she _did_ meddle when she shouldn't have, and I don't see the forfeit for such a crime as being avoidable, or mitigatable.  
Remus merging with Moony...yes, well, that one caught _me_ by surprise, lol. It's certainly going to be interesting what happens there (should I be worried that I know more about what happens in Corvine's OotP than in its GoF?). Remus will definitely be surviving into OotP, and now he's merged with his wolf his chances of surviving right to the end have also gone up considerably. Whether there will ever be any great reunions between Remus and Harry...that I don't know yet.  
Ah, Harry...yes, living all quiet as a snake and blissfully unaware of what's happening due to his absence. LOL. I don't think the irony had quite sunk in until I read your review, so I thank you again for that :D  
And year four, Goblet of Fire... To be honest, I think looks around for spies I think GoF may be a 'calm before the storm' year. Tension simmering on all sides, Dumbledore pulling strings only to find that not all of them are attached to puppets under his control, Alliances shifting... grins I think year four is going to be a very...interesting and subtle year ;)  
Thank you very much for reviewing :D

_Cocotitch:_  
Pff, if I weren't so wary of sending people annoying alerts when I'm just 'fiddling' I'd correct most of the mistakes I pick up when I re-read things. As it is, most of it tends to be minor...and if it's not coughtimeline error in Serpentinecough then I _do_ correct it and apologise for any alerts lol.  
And no, I can't believe you remembered that when you didn't figure out who the girl with red hair was...  
Yes, I know you're going to kill me and call this a teaser - tough :P  
Thanks for the review hun.

_rayama:_  
Heh, believe me, I'm having just as much fun(?) keeping track of everything - or trying to anyway lol.  
Sirius' death has been set since Serpentine I'm afraid, although it has to be said, he isn't one of my favourite characters, either to read or write :s  
As for Ginny getting into the chamber, I'm assuming she got in there the same way as they did in canon; with Voldemort possessing her via the diary enabling her to speak parseltongue. Sorry if it wasn't clear, it wasn't something I really considered at the time. Voldemort _was_ possessing her via the diary, she was just more complicit in allowing him to do so.  
Thanks for reviewing!

_lysryu:_  
Sorry if that should be an 'I' at the start of your name, a little difficult to tell with the font on ffnet  
I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter, and yes, I'm afraid it will be a little longer before Harry makes a definite appearance again; not until the summer after GoF in fact, so a few chapters away.  
Many thanks for the review :)

_Tommy14:_  
Good to hear, and have no fear, it may take me a while to post chapters, but this fic won't be dead until it reaches its end or I die in the attempt to get there:P  
Thanks for the review!


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